Alright everyone, here we go yet again! Now just a forewarning before reading this chapter. This chapter does contain mature content, torture and character death. But it's A Song of Fire and Ice, so that's pretty much par for the course and everyone should be expecting all those things when reading either the source material or fan fics. I will say, this chapter fought me like there was no tomorrow and I ended up partially re-writing a few sections within. But everything in the chapter needs to happen because there are quite a few setups going on. And, when I originally outlined this story this whole event was the first major plot point that I mapped out. So hopefully it all turned out good.

Also, just wanted to say quickly that I don't know how much longer I'll be able to keep this once-every-three weeks update schedule going. I don't want to burn myself out, but I also don't want to let this story just sit idle either. So please keep the expectations to once a month.

Huge shout out to my beta reader and brainstorm partner Tellemicus Sundace. The help has been invaluable so far. And another huge thank you to everyone who has favorited, alerted or reviewed this story so far. Your support is what keeps me going! So if you feel so inclined to leave a review, please do! They really do help me get my mojo going and get the next chapters rolling on.

Lastly, I do not own Disney, nor am I Lucas or Martin; so I have no ownership of A Song of Fire and Ice, Game of Thrones or Star Wars. This is purely for fun with no profit being made. And with that out of the way, let's get to the chapter! Stay safe out there everyone! Oh, and there is a quick reference to DAI in this chapter as well, but that is only because it worked so well with what was going on that I couldn't help but put it in!


Chapter 16

Humming a lively tune to herself, Sansa Stark stealthily made her way down the halls of her home with her best friend Jayne Poole at her side. Their destination, the great hall to spy for on the happily married Lord and Lady Nox. And then perhaps on to the kitchens to see if they had any more lemon cakes left over. "Sansa," Jeyne giggled as the two made their way out of the family wing and down towards the great hall, "this is so much fun! But if your mother finds out she will be so mad at us!"

A few months ago, such a thought would've made Sansa completely abandon what she'd been doing and correct her actions. But now she was finding the thought of being caught just made the act even more fun! She blamed her sister and Lady Nyra - now Lady Nox - for the bad influence. But none the less, she had been sneaking out from her room every now and then ever since Lady Nox put the idea into her head that you won't really know what people think about you until they think you are no longer in the room. She hadn't caught anyone speaking about her yet. But she was desperate to know what the people of Winterfell thought about her. Really thought about her. They always praised her to her face, saying that she was the perfect lady. Especially her mother and Septa Mordane. But she knew that many were, well, disappointed that she had not joined her brothers and sister during their sessions with Lord Nox. But they just didn't understand! The Seven said that such powers were an abomination! Well, maybe not directly. But many viewed the powers the sorcerer could wield as an affront to the Seven. Yet still, he was such a nice man. And handsome too! Oh, how she truly envied Lady Nox today!

The past week had been like a dream to Sansa. All the visiting Lords and Ladies, plus the knights of the Vale! Shining examples of knightly honor and chivalry! And they lived up too it! Lord Royce and his sons were all so courteous. Ser Corbray was a knight straight out of the tales. And his squire Mychel Redfort was so cute! He'd danced with Sansa multiple times during the week, and had told her that if she ever came south to a tourney, a real tourney, that he would do his utmost to win so that he might crown her the 'Queen of Love and Beauty'. Oh, it was such a wonderful thought!

But if the past week had been a dream, then today had been a heaven crafted by the Seven and the Old Gods themselves! The weather was perfect! Not a cloud in the sky and not too cold either. Lord Nox looked so handsome with his beard closely trimmed and his hair done back. Sansa only wished that he hadn't been cursed early in life so that she might've been able to see his eyes today instead of that black cloth he always wore. And Lady Nox, by the gods she was beautiful! Her white dress, her hair done in a braid over her shoulder and the cloak. And the cloak Sansa had spent hours sewing for her just looked fantastic on her! She just wished that the ceremony had lasted longer than it did. But even still, what happened at the end, for Lady Nox to be blessed by the gods so…she could only pray and wish that she would be so fortunate on her own wedding day! And, well…she hadn't told anyone but for just a moment Sansa could've sworn that she saw the god that had blessed Lady Nox! It looked like a normal woman who was wearing a strange headpiece! The moment she saw the being she immediately thought that it was the Maiden come to bless the ceremony, but that wasn't right. This was the North, not the south. And none of the depictions Septa Mordane had shown her of the Maiden aspect of the Seven were anything like the being Sansa saw.

"It sounds like the celebration is still going on," Jeyne whispered to her as the two drew closer to the great hall.

She was right. Sansa could still hear, well, something going on. It sounded like a celebration, but she couldn't hear the music anymore. Perhaps…perhaps this was time for the bedding that Septa Mordane had told them about? The thought of the bedding, of what it entailed, brought a blush to Sansa's face and she tugged on Jayne's sleeve. "It's probably the bedding," she said, making Jeyne's eyes widen in realization of what might be coming their way, "we should head back and stay out of-"

Sansa and Jeyne jumped as a door slammed hard against a wall down the hall from them. Then there was the sound of someone running towards them. "Come on," Sansa whispered urgently, "we don't want to get ca-"

Her words died in her throat as Lady Nox came running around the corner. She, gods, she looked scared. But why? Why would she fear her own wedding celebration? Maybe the bedding? Sansa could understand being afraid of that. She been terrified when the Septa had told her about the tradition. But it was tradition and expected of the bride to be ca-

"Sansa! Jeyne!" Lady Nox yelled, running towards them, her dress hiked up in her hands. "What are you two doing here? We need to get you both somewhere safe so you can hide! Now!"

"Safe?" Sansa questioned, looking at Jayne who looked just as confused as she felt. Why would they need to hide? "Why do we need-"

"This isn't the time for questions Sansa!" Lady Nox yelled, shocking Sansa as the older woman stopped close to them and rested a hand against the wall so she could catch her breath. "We – it isn't safe. Betrayed. Need. Can't…must get you-"

"Well well, we were wondering where our blushing bride had run off too. And now here she is with two pretty little flowers as well."

Lady Nox immediately turned and reached down to the top of her exposed boot. Sansa's eyes widened as her breath caught in her throat as Lady Nox pulled out a dagger the length of her hand and then turned away from Sansa and Jeyne, placing the two of them behind her. "Back. The. Fuck. Off."

Sansa wasn't sure what surprised, or scared, her more. The fact that Lady Nox had just cursed. Or the fact that there were six men standing just down the hall with daggers in their hands. She recognized three of them as knights of the Vale in service to Ser Corbray, one of them had even danced with her earlier tonight. But the other three, they were dirty and covered in rags! Most assuredly not the type of men that chivalrous knights of the South would ever want to be in the company of! 'Why would the knights be with these men? Why did Lady Nox pull a dagger?' Sansa wondered as she looked back and forth between Lady Nox and the men down the hall. 'I recognize some of these men as men from the Vale. But the others…they look dirty but that isn't a reason for Lady Nox to pull a dagger on them!'

The men all laughed as one stepped forward. A man she recognized but couldn't name. Though she knew that he spent a lot of time in the company of Ser Corbray. "Well well, the heathen-whore has teeth it seems!" The foul words and his tone shocked Sansa. This - this wasn't right! Men of the Vale, knights, didn't call a noble lady a 'whore'! Much less a 'heathen-whore'! "I can't tell you how painful it was to sit through that godless ceremony tonight. The only thing that got me through it was the thought of me and my boys here tearing you out of that dress and fucking every single one of your holes over the corpse off your husband."

Gasping, Sansa involuntarily took a step back as she tried to figure out just what was happening. 'No! This isn't how anointed knights and their men act! This, this isn't right! Something's wrong! The knights in the tale's mother and Septa Mordane tell never speak like this!'

"Over my dead…body." Lady Nox growled, the arm the didn't have the dagger ushering Sansa further behind her.

The man in the lead leaned slightly and his smile grew. A hideous look that Sansa never wanted to see again. "That can be arranged. But as fun as it will be claiming you, I see that you brought us to a bigger prize. Two young flowers, just ripe enough for the plucking. Our night is looking better and better eh boys?"

Sansa felt a wave of bile rising in her throat. She…she didn't understand. Septa Mordane and mother had both told her about birthing children even though she hadn't had her moonblood yet. But they…these were knights and their men were talking about, well, that. But why? That was only supposed to happen between a husband and wife. They, they couldn't be taking about doing that with…her and Jeyne…could they? "The moment your cocks jump out of your pants," Lady Nox growled, brandishing her dagger towards the men, "I'll cut them off."

"Hahaha! Amusing!" The lead man laughed with all the others joining in, "how about you drop that little knife and just get on your knees where you belong eh? Maybe if you be a good little whore for us, we won't treat you too bad! Get em boys!"

Sansa wasn't quite sure just what happened next, but one moment the Vale men were a fair distance away, and then the next they were right on top of them! Lady Nox told them to run, but Sansa couldn't move. She just, this wasn't the way it was supposed to be! She couldn't understand why this was happening! This couldn't be happening. Lady Nox slashed her dagger at the men, but the led man who'd been taking just sidestepped the blade and grabbed her arm before spinning her around and wrapping his arm around her neck! By the time Sansa could find the will to move, it was too late as two of the grime covered men grabbed her by the shoulders and – and they started touching her!

"No no little lady," one of the men holding her laughed in her ear as she tried to struggle out of his grip, his breath was completely terrible! "Don't do anythin stupid ya hear? Ya wouldn't want somethin bad to happen to that little babe now would ya?"

Gasping, Sansa realized that the led man had pulled out his own dagger and – and was holding it against Lady Nox's belly! Right were her babe was! No! These were knights and men of the Vale! They – they were pure knightly chivalry! They – they couldn't be doing this!

"What the hell is going on here?"

Sansa sagged in the arms of the man holding her as she nearly wept with relief as Ser Corbray pushed his way through the crowed of men. Thankfully, his sword was already in hand, no doubt ready to defend their honor and... Strange. it was covered in something red. Blood. His sword was covered in…blood. Why – why did he have blood on his sword? Was he already fighting somewhere else before this? "Ser Corbray," the led man said, clearly nervous but keeping a firm hold on Lady Nox, "we – umm – "

"Be quiet you idiot," Ser Corbrary growled, "you three were supposed to capture the sorcerer's whore. And as for you three…the only reason why you are not rotting in the cells is because you were supposed to be out causing as much havoc as you can to distract the guards. Why are you all still standing here with your dicks in your hands messing with these two girls when you should be out doing what you were supposed to do?"

Sansa's relief disappeared as quickly as it came. Why? Why wasn't Ser Corbray fighting against them? Why? He was a true knight! A handsome knight and a Lord! Why was he just standing there when they were saying such awful things? "Well," the first man said, giving Lady Nox a shake, "we were chasing the whore there and well, she led us to these two little flowers and we we're just about to pull lots to see which one gets the honor of being the first to pluck their flowers."

She had a brief twinge of hope when Ser Corbray looked at her and Jayne. But that hope disappeared as his look soured as if he'd just seen something particularly offending. "That one there is Sansa Stark," he said, pointing his bloody sword towards her and making her shrink back into the smelly man that was holding her as the point of the sword passed far too close to her for her liking. "She's needs to remain unharmed and unsoiled."

"Damn," the lead man groaned, as did several others, though the one holding her didn't lessen his hold on her at all. "What about the other one then?"

Ser Corbray's eyes shifted to Jeyne. "Jayne Poole. Considering I just orphaned her, she has no value. Do with her as you will. But make it quick or save her for later. We have a lot of cleaning up to do still. But separate the Stark bitch. Roose will be wanting to make sure nothing happens to his future good-daughter."

"WHAT?" Jayne screamed, it took Sansa a bit to realize just what was going on, but the blood on Corbray's sword, combined with what he'd just said about Jeyne…'Gods….no…'

"That's right lass," Corbray smiled, an unkind smile that made Sansa wonder just why she ever thought the man was handsome. "Your father, well…he was pathetic. Barely even put up any resistance. Though if you want to say goodbye to a part of him, I believe there might be a bit of his hair left on the edge of Lady Forlon here."

The men all laughed, then laughed even harder as Jeyne let loose a wail of pain. 'Her…her father is…dead? No, no no! This can't be! What – what about my father? He – he can't…they accepted guest rights! This – this is an affront to the gods! All the gods! They can't be doing this! This can't be happening. Father. Mother. Robb. Arya. Bran. Rickon…Jon…no! This – this can't be real!'

A new hand grabbed a hold of her arm, roughly pulling her out of the arms of the smelly man. "I'll be taking Sansa here to meet her future good family," Ser Corbray said, his hold on her arm causing pain to race through her. "Do what you want with the sorcerer's whore and the orphan girl. But they're not to leave here alive."

The men's cheers and Jeyne's screams filled the hall as Ser Corbray pulled on her arm, forcing her feet to move as he began to lead her away. 'No!' Sansa wanted to scream as she watched in horror as the men began to pull roughly at Lady Nox's beautiful snow-white dress and Jeyne's night dress. 'No! This isn't happening!'

The man holding Lady Nox suddenly let out a pain scream as the older woman stomped down hard onto the man's toes with the heel of her shoe. The act loosened his hold on her, and Lady Nox threw her elbow back into the led man's neck. Letting out a pained coughing noise, the led man took a step back from Lady Nox. But he didn't get far as Lady Nox had somehow managed to grab hold of her dagger again in the struggle and – and she turned and buried the dagger into the led man's throat! "Run!"

A hard tug on her arm, and Sansa found herself involuntarily all but running towards Lady Nox. The older woman managed to turn just in time to catch Sansa in her arms, but with how fast she'd been moving she ended up spinning the both around as if they were in some form of dance. "You need to run!" Lady Nox yelled right into her ear once the two had stopped moving and Lady Nox moved her back to arm's length as the other men started to descend upon the two of them. "Find some guards an-"

Nyra jolted and Sansa felt something warm hit her arm. Looking down at her hand, she saw something red. And warm. Blood. But not her blood. She could hardly breathe as she looked towards Lady Nox, wanting to ask where the blood had came from. But Lady Nox was just…standing there. And – and there was something coming out of her front and – and her white dress was turning red for some reason. Looking past her, she saw Ser Corbray standing just behind Lady Nox. His sword in hand and – and the blade was in Lady Nox's stomach!

"Not as good as killing that Dornish Kingsguard fuck," Ser Corbray sneered jerking his arm back, and like a puppet with its strings cut, Lady Nox fell to the floor clutching at the steadily growing red spreading across her dress. "But killing a heathen whore and her unborn hellspawn with a single thrust is certainly satisfying."

"Damn milord, why did you have to do that? I wanted a turn with her."

"She's still alive, if only barely. And even if not, she's still warm! How picky are you?"

Feeling something grab her arm, she looked away from Lady Nox and found the cold eyes of Ser Corbray staring down at her. Her arm held tightly in his once more. "I'm taking this one to meet her future," he said, pulling on her arm, "do what you want with these two. Just don't take long."

She could hear Jeyne scream. The men were, they were surrounding her. One had grabbed the front of her dress and was trying to tear it. No. No. This wasn't right! This wasn't like the stories at all! This – this wasn't supposed to happen! This shouldn't be happening! Twisting her arm, she tried to get free of Ser Corbray to help her friend, but the man's grip was like iron! "Stop struggling you little bitch!" The knight yelled, jerking her arm and throwing and making her loose her balance so that she fell to her hands and knees.

Whimpering at the pain in her hands, Sansa turned her head and saw something that made her blood run cold. Jeyne was – was on the ground! And – and the some of the men were using their daggers to cut off her sleeping dress while one stood above her and started fiddling with his trousers! And Lady Nox, gods, another man was cutting away at her dress too! She had to do something an –

Cold, a cold unlike any she had ever felt in her entire life descended upon her. Descended upon all of them as the men from the Vale all stopped whatever they were doing and began looking around clearly confused. "What in da hells?" The man who was standing above Jeyne asked as his body was wracked with shivers, "is – is there a winter storm happenin?"

No. It wasn't a storm. At least, not the kind the men were thinking of. She didn't know how she knew, but she knew. This cold wasn't the cold of winter. It was being caused by Lord Nox somehow! Though it was strange, while the men were all shivering and looking around nervously while clutching their daggers, Sansa didn't feel overly cold. Or afraid. It was as if the cold was giving her strength. A strength she never knew she had. Slowly, her fear eroded away into anger. An anger unlike any she had ever felt before. 'How dare they!' She seethed, gritting her teeth as she watched Jeyne curl into a ball and Lady Nox clutch at her bloodied stomach while the men stood above them. 'How dare they do this! This – this isn't right! This is against the gods! They – they will pay!'

"Ignore it," Ser Corbray snapped, moving back over to her and reaching out for her once more, "do what you want quickly and then move on. I'm heading back to the hall to see if they've fin-"

Letting her anger and rage run through her, empowered by the cold sensation she knew had been sent by Lord Nox, Sansa opened her mouth and screamed. "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

The moment she'd opened her mouth, she felt something rush through her body and out her mouth. She could see the very air before her ripple in response to her scream. Ripples that passed over all the standing men but left Lady Nox and Jeyne alone. And as the ripples in the air passed over them, the men all began letting out pained cries as they dropped whatever they were holding and began clutching at their ears as if they were trying to shield them. 'No!' Sansa thought, or willed, trying to put more into her scream, and succeeding as she felt something more rush from her in response to her desire. 'You will not get off that easily!'

Quickly scrambling to her feet, Sansa took in a deep breath before screaming once more, the air rippling once again in response to her voice. She had no idea what was going or why the knights were acting like they were in pain at hearing her scream, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that they were getting away from Jeyne and Lady Nox. And that was all she cared about. She didn't even care as she noticed blood start to seep from underneath the men's hands. 'It's what they deserve!' She thought with anger, pushing more and more into her scream as the men began dropping to their knees. One man even tried to run, only to stumble and run headfirst into a wall before crumpling to the floor in a heap. Some men even started losing the contents of their stomachs as they staggered around as if in a daze. 'They deserve this! They deserve this!'

She didn't know just how long she kept screaming for, nor did she care. All she cared about was getting these men away from Jeyne and Lady Nox. And she would keep screaming until they were all gone! One by one, the men started dropping limply to the floor until only Ser Corbray was the last one standing. Taking another breath, Sansa let loose one more scream, this time focusing all her thoughts on the false knight of the Vale. Ser Corbray managed to look at her one last time, his eyes bloodshot and full of hate and anger. He managed but a single step towards her, blood flowing freely from underneath his hands that were covering his ears, before he too succumbed to whatever she was doing and fell face first to the ground.

Stopping her scream, Sansa felt whatever rage she'd had within her melt away as she collapsed to her hands and knees, a hand moving to her throat. 'Gods! Wha – what was – what was that? What have I done?' She thought desperately. The men of the Vale were all laying unmoving on the ground, some in piles of their own blood and vomit. As quick as the disgust came at what she'd done it left as she spotted Jeyne weakly trying to rise to her hands and knees and Lady Nox, still lying motionless on the floor. Whatever she done; these men deserved it.


Grasping the edge of the table tightly, Nox fought a steadily losing battle to maintain any type of sight of what was going on around him while at the same time trying desperately to purge the poison from his system. Mercifully, Nyra had managed to escape from the hall almost as soon as the fighting started while Jon and Robb had immediately rush to his and Ned's defense, well, more his than Ned's as his very poor sight could see that the Warden of the North was holding his own with his son's, despite the fact that all three were unarmed and their assailants were all brandishing daggers or other crude weapons that they'd somehow snuck into the feast.

This was his fault. He'd been far too lax in his defenses, far too complacent. He knew as soon as he started introducing new processes and inventions to the North that he would be rocking the boat of the political landscape. And he knew all too well the eventual consequences that could bring. But he'd been sure of his position here in the North. Content that nothing could challenge him here. And in his hubris, he allowed this to come to pass. By the dark side, he had even left his lightsaber in his tower! And he knew that Jon had left his in a secured location as well! How did he allow himself to get so sloppy?

Pushing himself away from the table, Nox stumbled a step back as a would-be assassin tried to skewer him. Grabbing the assassin's outstretched arm, Nox twisted it, breaking the bones in the arm then brought the edge of his hand hard into the man's throat, crushing his larynx while he was still screaming in pain from the break. "Master," Jon yelled over the fighting, "we need to get you out of here!"

"No," Nox growled, his legs aching as he forced himself to remain upright while the poison wreaked havoc on his insides.

Grabbing the crossbow bolt in his shoulder, he yanked the offending piece of wood out of his shoulder before repeating the process with the bolt that'd pierced his arm when he'd shielded Nyra. He'd never run away from the fight. If he was here, the assassins would focus in on him. Which would give Nyra and his unborn child a better chance to getting back to the Sorcerer's Tower. And once she was there, the defenses he'd installed in the tower to fend off uninvited guests would keep her safe. He just had to hold out a bit longer.

"We can…fend them off," Nox coughed, spitting up a glob of blood as he did so, "I just need…some more time…to fight off…the poison an-"

A pain in his gut doubled him over, making him gasp desperately for air. It wasn't the poison, but the Force that was the culprit. The bond that'd he'd just recently solidified by a few hours ago telling him with no uncertainty that something was very, very wrong. "Nyra…"

Rage. That was the only word that could describe what he was feeling. A feeling that he had experienced only twice before in his entire life. The first when his mother was taken in front of him before his eyes were stolen from him. And the second when his first love, Ashara, was coldly ripped away from him. And now, now he felt that same rage again as he felt through his recently formed Force Bond as pain and anguish came from Nyra. "NNNNNOOOOO!"

His cry rattled the very rafters of the great hall as he let his rage and fury run rampant. For the briefest of moment, not a soul moved within the great hall as everyone was knocked back a step. Then he felt a foolish boy rushing towards him, dagger extended and thoughts of glory and honor in his head. Sidestepping, Nox grabbed the young lad, who was perhaps only a few years older than Jon and Robb, by the throat and picked him up off the ground and slammed him onto the table. Keeping the boy pinned to the table with his right hand tight around his throat, Nox threw his left hand out behind him, just in time to grab a second assailant by the throat as well. "Suffer!"

Both the boy and the second man screamed in agony as Nox used a Force drain on the both of them. The energy he took from them was immediately dispersed through his body and used to purge his system of the poison still in him as well as heal the holes in his shoulder and arm. Unfortunately, neither had any meaningful Force sensitivity to them. Which meant that the strength he was drawing from both was miniscule at best. Gritting his teeth, he pulled more and more from his two attackers, draining them of everything they had to cure himself. By the time the poison was gone, both the boy and the man were little more than withered husks of flesh and bones.

Staggering back from the table, Nox refocused his Force sight. Despite having just drained two individuals to death, his sight was still only a mere fraction of what it usually was. And he still barely had enough strength to stand on his own two feet. But the poison was now gone from his system. And now he could fight properly.

"Bastard!"

Turning his head, Nox coldly regard guardsman from some House rushing towards him with a dagger at the ready. Not willing to even entertain the man, Nox lifted his hand and sent a wave of Force lightning into the fool, throwing him clear across the hall and into the far wall where he landed with enough force to break every bone in his body. "Master!"

'Damn it!' He cursed, staggering and having to catch himself on the table again. 'Just how much poison did they use? I can hardly fucking move! And that attack, it took far more out of me than it should've!'

"Master –"

"Nyra," Nox growled, trying to take a step only for his knee to collapse and almost send him to the floor had Jon not been there to catch him. He hated this feeling. He could feel Nyra alive, but suffering. And he was powerless to go to her. "Jon…Nyra. Towards the…family wing. Go. Now!"

"I – I won't leave you and father!"

Gripping his shoulder, Nox dug his fingers into his Apprentice's shoulder and physically moved him out of the path of a crossbow bolt. "I can barely fucking stand as it is," Nox growled, the admission leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. Weakness was a disease to the Sith. And the only reason he was even admitting to his weakness in this one moment, to his Apprentice no less, was because his wife - his light - was dying. And her safety meant far more to him than not showing a weakness. "You need to go to her, get her to safety and get to your family! They're after all of us, not just me! Now go!"

Jon hesitated only a moment long before letting go of him and running out of the hall in the direction Nyra had escaped too with Robb quick on his heels. Clutching at his aching shoulder, Nox let his rage boil over as he turned his attention back to the carnage taking place in the great hall of Winterfell. "Now," he growled, Force lightning dancing across his fingers, "who's next?"


Coughs wracking her body, Sansa tried to call out to Lady Nox and Jeyne, but her throat ached so fiercely that she it hurt to breathe! Fighting through her coughing, she scrambled over to Lady Nox and Jeyne on her hands and knees. Lady Nox was still where she'd been before Sansa had let out her scream. Laying on the floor in a pool of her own blood. Sansa started praying to both the Seven and the Old Gods for this to just be a bad dream. But it wasn't a dream. The floor, and now her hands and dress, were covered in Lady Nox's blood that had spilled out onto the floor. 'Gods! What, what do I do?' Sansa thought desperately as she arrived at Lady Nox's side.

'What – what did Talisa say when she was treating the wounded? Pressure! Right, pressure to stop the bleeding! I need to stop the bleeding! But how do I stop the bleeding and - oh gods there's so much blood!'

With trembling hands, Sansa fought through her fear of touching blood and pressed her hands over top of the wound on Lady Nox's stomach. She needed help! She – she needed Jeyne's help! There was just so much blood! But as she spotted her friend, she knew that her friend wouldn't be of any help. Jeyne had managed to get up into a sitting position and was just sitting there, rocking back and forth and muttering to herself and not looking at anything. 'I need to keep pressure, but gods how much pressure! I don't want to hurt the bab – oh gods! The babe! Please, please let it be alright!'

A second set of hands, cold and wet, joined hers. Jerking her head, she found herself staring right into Lady Nox's soft brown eyes. "Sansa…Jeyne and…run. Hide…live. Tell…Alim I – I love…him."

Tears started pouring freely from Sansa's eyes. No! This – this wasn't the way it was supposed to be! This wasn't the way the stories were supposed to end! Lady Nox and Lord Nox were married and about to have a child! They were supposed to live happily ever after! This, this couldn't be the end! She – she wouldn't let this be the end! 'Please, old gods of the North. I – I know I've squandered the gifts you've granted my brothers and sister. But, but please! If – if I have this gift, please let me use it to save Lady Nox! She – she doesn't deserve this! She needs to live! You blessed her! Now please, help me help her! I won't let her die!'

Gasping, Sansa felt as if a river started rushing through her, starting from her shoulders down her arms and into Lady Nox. It was the strangest feeling. She felt, weak, yet Lady Nox's eyes, which had been slowly closing, sprung open and she gasped allowed as she arched her body up into Sansa's hands. "Yes!" Sansa yelled, and then coughed as she was given a painful reminder of the state of her throat. She didn't know how she knew, but she knew that Lady Nox was getting better! 'I don't care how weak I feel! I won't stop until I know Lady Nox is fine a-'

Her thoughts were cut off as something hard struck her in the gut. Her hands left Lady Nox as she was lifted off the ground for a moment before coming back down hard. Clutching her gut, Sansa let loose a hacking cough as she gasped for air. Before she could even wonder what had happened, the hard object was back again, slamming into her gut once. Twice. And on the third time she felt the contents of her stomach rush to leave her.

"Fucking bitch! You weren't supposed to have any powers like your gods damned heretical siblings!"

Sobbing, Sansa clutched at her stomach as she tried to stop the pain spreading through her. Looking up through tear filled eyes, she felt her dreams of knighthood shatter. Ser Corbray was towering over her, his once handsome face twisted in rage as small trails of blood streamed down from both of his ears. "I don't know what the fuck you did!" He screamed, kicking her in the gut again. "But I can hardly even hear myself think now fucking whore!"

Closing her eyes, she tried to will the pain away. "Don't you close your fucking eyes!" Ser Corbray screamed at her as he grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back, forcing her to look at him. What little breath she had left in her left as she found the edge of a dagger right under her eye. "Bolton wanted you unmarred and unsoiled. But after this, he's just going to have to settle for unsoiled. Cause I'm going to take my pound of flesh from you little girl in payment for what you did to me!"

She tried to scream again, just like before, but even if she had the breath to do so she didn't even know how she did it before. In the end, she could only watch as, as if in slow motion, the dagger moved closer and closer to her face. Closing her eyes in fear as the blades edge ever closer to her eye she felt a wave of shame pass through her as soiled herself the cool steel press against her skin.

A loud fleshy whacking sound erupted from in front of her as an angry feminine voice called out, "get off of her you kneeler cunt!"

Eyes snapping open, she found Ser Corbray staggering away from her clutching at his face. There was a person standing between Sansa and the knight. A woman. The wildling woman. Osha. And she was wielding some sort of broom or pole or something. "Fucking hells!" Ser Corbray screamed, picking up his sword that'd been on the ground. "Who the fuck are you?! A serving girl? How the hell are you here? The servant quarters should've been dealt with by now!"

Getting up onto all fours, Sansa scurried behind Osha's skirt as she tried to hide herself as best she could. "Me? I'm just a free woman that choose to be here. Not that I had much choice, but it was still my choice to be here." Osha replied calmly as if she wasn't facing down several armed men. "And as for the fucks you sent after us…they're all dead. Honestly, you southerners prance about all fancy in your shinny armor, but you all can't fight a real fight worth shit."

"Is that so?" Ser Corbray replied, still almost yelling despite the close distance between them. "Well, I guess I'll have to belatedly fix those idiots mistakes. Whoever kills this bitch gets first go at the virgin orphan girl."

Osha set her feet apart in a stance that Sansa had seen Arya take whenever her younger sister went to the yard. Hope. Blessed hope blossomed within her as she looked up towards her guardian that was protecting her. But with that hope came an equal feeling of despair as she noticed at least two of the men behind Ser Corbray slowly start to get to their feet as well, daggers in their hands and rage in their eyes. "Stay behind me little lady."

Whimpering, Sansa tried to make herself as small as possible as one of the men that'd managed to get back to his feet let out a cry of rage and charged straight at Sansa and Osha with a dagger raised. But before he could reach them, he suddenly stopped in his tracks and shot straight upwards, crashing into the ceiling hard before falling to the floor faster than an arrow shot from a bow. He hit the ground and she couldn't help but flinch as he landed with a wet sound just like a wet rag that'd been thrown to the ground. "Sansa!"

She would've cried with joy as she heard and saw her brother Robb and Jon suddenly appear behind the men. But all she could think about instead was the fact that the man before her had just killed Jayne's father. A grown man. What chance did her brothers have against him? 'No…not brother. My brothers.' Neither of her brothers appeared to have any weapons. But that didn't seem to matter as the two of them started waving their hands back and forth. And with each movement of their hands a different man would go flying into a wall with a sickening crunch or splat and then stop moving. Within a blink of an eye, the all the men save for Ser Corbray were laying in pools of their own blood on the floor. "Shit!" Ser Corbray yelled, turning his back on Osha, "you two should already be fucking dea-"

Sansa didn't even seen Osha move, but the moment Ser Corbray turned his back on them the former wildling woman leapt forward and brought the pole she was wielding down onto the back of the knight's head with a solid thud. Ser Corbray stiffened his feet once in response to the blow and then fell forward and remained motionless on the ground. "Sansa!"

Weeping in blessed relief, Sansa lunged towards her brother as Robb rushed past the fallen men and took her up into his arms. "R -Robb," she struggled to say, her voice still raw from whatever she'd done earlier. "I – I – "

"Shh, don't talk sister," Robb cooed, holding her tight, "we're here now. It'll be alright."

"N – no," Sansa coughed, shaking her head, "L – lady N – Nox. H – help L – Lady Nox."

Robb's eyes widened as his head whipped around towards Lady Nox. Jon was leaning over her and carefully prodding at the bloodied dress where Sansa had seen the sword enter her. "That's a lot of blood," Osha said, kneeling on the other side of Lady Nox, Jeyne firmly attached to the former wildlings side.

"There's no wound," Jon called out as he placed a finger under her nose, "she's still breathing. How?"

"I – he – healed her." Sansa rasped.

"Thank the gods," Robb breathed, tightening his hold on her shoulders. "You did good Sansa. I'm proud of you."

Despite everything, Sansa felt her spirits lift at hearing her brother's praise. But then she felt, something. Like she'd just stepped out from Winterfell's warm walls into the coldest of nights during a winter year. "Shit!" Robb cursed, his head whipping about. "That – that came from Arya!"

A new fear rushed through Sansa as she turned to look back in the direction of the family quarters. 'That, that was Arya? What – what is going on? What was that?'

"Osha," Robb said, forcibly making her let go of him and rising to his feet, grabbing a sword as he did. The sword that Ser – no. He was no true knight. The sword the Corbray had used to stab Lady Nox. "There's a guest room right around the corner that should be empty. I need you to talk my sister, Jeyne and Lady Nox there and lock the door behind you and keep them safe!"

Osha didn't hesitate. "Aye little lord, I can do that."

Grasping his leggings, Sansa clutched desperately onto her older brother. "R – R – obb…."

"Sansa," Robb said calmly, forcing her to meet his eyes. Eyes that the two of them shared. "Jon and I need to go and find mother, Arya, Bran and Rickon. They might need our help. I need you to go with Osha and look after Lady Nox. I need you to be brave sister. Please. Jeyne needs you now more than us. And Lady Nox needs you as well. You're a wolf Sansa. Show them."

Swallowing, she forced back the tears threatening to fall from her eyes and gave her brother a nod. "Good," Robb nodded, before he grabbed hold of Ser Corbray's sword and motioned towards their half-brother, "let's go Jon."

Watching her brothers run away from her and doing nothing was probably one of the hardest things she'd ever done. She wanted them to stay here, with her and make sure she'd be safe. But she couldn't be selfish. They'd already saved her. Now they needed to go and save mother, Arya, Bran and Rickon. "Come little lady," Osha called out to her as the former wildling carefully began trying to move Lady Nox. "I'm gonna need both of yours help to get the sorcerer's lady to safety. And I don't know about ya, but I ain't in the mood to get on that man's bad side."


Running as fast as he could, Jon was praying to every god he could that whatever the hell was going on hadn't reached the family quarters of Winterfell as he and Robb rushed through the halls of Winterfell. That hope had been squashed the moment the two of them made entered the family quarters and found two Stark guards lying dead on the ground and an unknown man standing beside them looking blankly off into the distance. Jon hadn't hesitated as he used the sword that he'd picked up from the men that'd attacked Sansa, Lady Nox and Jayne and ran the unknown man through the gut. The man didn't even flinch as the blade went through him. Nor did he cry out in pain or even try to fight back. All he did was just stand there while mumbling that he 'wanted to leave'.

Not sparing the man a second thought, Jon pushed the now dead man off his blade and rush towards his sibling's rooms. "Go for Arya!" Robb yelled as they neared the rooms, "I'll check on Bran!"

Heart thudding in his chest, Jon skidded to a stop in front of Arya's room. Planting his feet, he rushed forward and slammed his shoulder into the hard-wooden door. The wood splintered beneath the force of his shoulder and nearly flung off the hinges as it slammed open. "Arya!"

The room beyond was empty. Save for a man that was lying face first on the floor, his blood pouring out from a knife wound in his throat. Kneeling next to the man, Jon pressed his fingers to his throat, trying and failing to find a heartbeat as Nox had taught him. "Arya!"

"Jon?"

Spinning around, Jon nearly collapsed with relief as his sister seemingly emerged from one of the shadowy corners of her room with her little wolf at her heels. "Thank the gods," Jon breathed, gathering his little sister in his arms. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Arya replied, her small form shaking in his arms, "I heard…him kill…Thomos and Seamas… He…He said he was looking for me. I – I hid and then…Then when he wasn't looking, I used the dagger a—"

"Shh, it's okay," he said, leaning back and placing a finger on her lips to silence her. "You did what you had too sister. And you did a good job."

"Jon?" Robb's voice came in from the hall, "I got Bran, is Arya alright?"

"Yes," Jon nodded, keeping one arm around Arya as Robb quickly led Bran and his little pup into the Arya's small room. "She took care of him long before we could get here."

Robb spared the dead man only a passing glance before urging Bran forward. "Bran, Arya. We need you two to stay here while Jon and I go and check on mother and Rickon."

"No!" Arya immediately shouted, making Bran whimper slightly. "I'm coming too!"
"Arya," Jon said urgently, taking his sister by the shoulders and making her look at him. "Look at Bran. He needs you here more than we need you out there. Stay with him and protect him little wolf."

Arya did not look pleased in the slightest, but one glance at their clearly frightened brother took whatever fight she had left. "Don't die Jon," she whimpered, her fear over what was happening finally coming through.

"I don't plan on it," he smiled, kissing the top of her head. "Robb and I will drag the body out. Then barricade the door with whatever you can and don't even think of opening it until you hear from either father, Robb, your mother or myself. Understand?"

"Yes," Arya nodded, a slight bit of confidence showing through her fear.

"Good," Jon nodded, moving over to the corpse and grabbing one of the man's legs, "let's get this body out of here Robb and find Rickon and your lady mother."

"Aye," Robb nodded, ruffling first Bran's then Arya's hair before moving to help Jon with the body.

The moment the two were outside of Arya's room, the door shut, and they could hear several heavy objects being moved in front of it. No doubt courtesy of Arya's force capabilities which were coming close to Jon's own powers. "Mother should be with Rickon," Robb said as they left the body unceremoniously in the middle of the hall, "let's find them both a-"

"Ahhhh!"

The scream stopped both brothers' dead in their tracks as they reached recognized who it belonged too. "Mother!" Robb shouted, rushing off towards Rickon's room, which was a short distance away from the others though closer to the Lords chambers due to his brother's still young age.

Coming upon the nursery next to the Lord's chambers, Robb didn't hesitate as he lowered his shoulder and plowed his way through the closed door, covering both himself and the room within in a shower of splinters as the door shattered beneath the force of Robb's Force-enhanced charge. Rushing in right behind him Jon nearly ran head long into his brother, who'd stopped just within the entrance to the room. Both boys froze as they took in the sight that greeted them. There were three occupants in the room: two men and Lady Stark. Both men were holding daggers and one of them had a firm grip on the front of Lady Stark's dress.

Over the space of a few heartbeats, no one in the room moved as everyone tried to wrap their minds around what was going on. To Jon's utmost shame, the assassin broke free of the stalemate first as he made the first move. A move that would be forever engrained into Jon's mind as the assassin who was holding onto Lady Stark cursed and – and plunged his dagger right into Lady Stark's chest before letting her go and running for the far side of the room away from Jon and Robb.

"No!" Robb's agonized scream of rage chilled Jon down to his very bones as he rushed towards his falling mother while the two assassins made a break for the window on the opposite side of the room.

"No you don't!" Jon growled, reaching out with his hand and catching both men firmly in the grip of the Force before pulling them both back into the room and slamming them against the nearest wall as hard as he could and letting their bodies fall limply to the floor.

"Jon! Help me!"

Tearing his gaze away from the two assassins, Jon rushed over to his brother who was cradling his mother's head in his lap and dropped to his knees beside him. The first thing he saw was the dagger, still in Lady Starks chest. It hadn't pierced her heart, at least he thought it hadn't. But it was close. Far too close to where he knew the heart to be. "Jon!" Robb cried, tears openly falling down his face, "please…brother…help her!"

Robb had never been one for Force Healing. But neither had Jon. But between the two of them, he was far more adapt at the skill than his brother. Holding his hand out next to the edge of the blade, Jon drew on the Force and reached out with his senses. The daggers edge had touched her heart. And she was bleeding profusely, even if it didn't show on the outside. If they removed the dagger, it would more than likely cut her heart open more and then she would be far beyond his ability to save. If she was even in his ability to save right now. Gritting his teeth, Jon poured everything he had into trying to heal the woman who had almost seemingly made it her life's purpose to make his life miserable just because of his birth. "Damn it!" He cursed, pushing as hard as he could, sweat forming on his face and falling freely as he kept trying to heal her. "Please! Please! Just – just please!"

But no matter how hard he pushed; the wound caused by the dagger just wouldn't heal. Not with the dagger still in place. Feeling himself lose strength, Jon pushed himself harder than ever before as he poured everything, he had into trying to heal her. But he just didn't have the skill. And no matter how much raw power he put into it, the wounds and bleeding within Lady Stark just wouldn't close. "Damn it!" Jon cried, his body sagging as his power failed him, "I – gods I can't…I – I'm so…"

A feather light touch on his hand drew his eyes up. Lady Stark's clear blue eyes were staring at him. But unlike in the past where her eyes held nothing but contempt for him, now – now they were staring at him in sorrow. "Please…for…give me. For not – for not lo…loving a – a motherless boy."

No. This – this couldn't be happening! Forcing himself upright once more, Jon tried once more, pushing himself further than ever before. But no matter what he did, the results didn't change. And Lady Starks life slowly started to slip away as more and more of her blood left her. "Please," her hand was gripping his now, her eyes full of pleading, "please…forgive…me."

"No mother!" Robb cried out, "we – we can get Lord Nox! He – he can heal you! Or the Maester – Lady Talisa! Or – or someone! You're not going to die mother!"

His brother was right, perhaps the only person in all the world who could heal her now was Lord Nox. But he was fighting down in the great hall. And by the time he got to her, he doubted that Lady Stark would still be drawing breath. Turning his bloodied hand over, he gently gripped Lady Starks hand. It was perhaps the first time he'd ever held her hand. It'd been something he'd ached for ever since he saw her holding the hands of his siblings. But he never wanted it to happen like this! Not like this. "I – I forgive you…Lady Stark."

Despite the pain she must've been in, Lady Stark gave him a smile. A true smile. And the first he'd ever seen directed his way. "R – robb." She stuttered, blood forming on the corners of her lips. "Be – be strong. For – for your father and – and your sisters an – and brothers."

Sobbing, Robb clutched to his mother tighter. "No mother! You'll be fine! You'll see…we – if Jon and I both try we can –"

"Shh," Lady Stark whispered, her hand leaving Jon's and reaching up to touch Robb's cheek. "Be – be strong my…my young…wolf…"

And with those last words, Lady Starks hand went limp as she passed from this life into the next. "Mother!" Robb cried, his voice starting soft before steadily rising until he was screaming. "Mother! No…no…mother!"

Feeling like a complete failure, Jon slipped away from his brother and the now dead Lady Stark. Getting back to his feet on wobbling legs, Jon cast a glance towards the two assassins. 'Two assassins. Why send two for – oh no.' Moving on unsteady feet, Jon slowly made his way towards the crib within the nursery. His heart hammering in his chest as he realized just now that he had not once heard his baby brother nor the young wolf who was permanently attached to his baby brother's side. 'He's – he's just sleeping. That's it. That's why he hasn't made any noise yet! Lady Stark drew their attention away and – and he managed to sleep through it all!'

Peering over the edge of his bothers crib, Jon felt bile rise in his throat. His baby brother and his wolf were laying perfectly still in the bed. Both with their throats slit to the point where he could see bone. Grabbing the blanket that was at the end of the bed, he slowly pulled it up, covering both his brother and the wolf pup. 'Gods…why?' He thought, turning his back on the heart wrenching sight. What little strength he had left abandoned him as his knees gave way, his back sliding against the crib until he was sitting fully on the ground.

"Jon," Robb's broken voice called out to him, his brother still cradling the head of his dead mother. "Rickon…"

He couldn't answer. He just, he couldn't find the words. The only thing he could manage was the slightest shake of his head to try and say what he couldn't. But it was enough as his brother's eyes squeezed shut once more. "Why?" Robb demanded shakily, anger unlike any Jon had ever felt from his brother now rolling off him in droves. "Why…why did this…gods. I – I don't understand. Why? Why did this happen?"

But there was no answer to be had. Not from Jon. Not from the dead. And not from the gods. The stillness was broken by the slightest of groans, drawing both brothers' attention to the two crumbled up forms laying on the far side of the room from Jon. The two assassins. One of whom was now trying to move once more. The one that'd driven his dagger in to Lady Starks chest. "You," Robb hissed, his anger turning to a burning hatred as he set his mother's head down gently. "You – you're fucking dead!"

Even if Jon had the strength to stop his brother, he wouldn't have. Instead, he just sat there, leaning against his dead brothers crib as he watched his brother lunge across the room and grabble with the still recovering assassin. Rolling so that he was on top of the man, Robb brought his fist down hard onto the man's face. Then again. And again. And again. Each punch accented with a demand from his brother to know why they'd done this. The assassin had no answer. And even if he did, Jon doubted he'd be able to speak the words given Robb was giving the man no time to answer as his fist came down on the man's face over and over. By the time the Stark men at arms and their Lord father finally arrived, the assassin was well past dead. And Robb was still pounding his fist into the bloody smear on the ground that had once been the man's head, with his brother still demanding to know why from the dead assassin.


Sitting beside Nyra's beside gently holding her limp hand, Nox starred off into nothingness through the Force as he and his wife rested in silence. The only noise in the room the sound of his wife's labored breathing accompanied with the occasional hitch as she mourned even in her sleep. The fighting in the great hall of Winterfell hadn't lasted long after Nox had started turning anyone he deemed as a threat into ash. He'd barely managed to kill a few of the bastards before the assassins started throwing down their weapons and pleading for mercy. Under normal circumstances, he would've just simply laughed at their pleas and obliterated them anyway. But what happened the previous evening was anything but ordinary. And between the poison that was still burning through his veins and the need he had to find Nyra, he staggered out of the hall the moment the Lords of he North started binding those that'd had surrendered.

It hadn't taken him long to find his wife. His vision still darkened from the poison that'd sapped all his strength, Nox stumbled his way over more than a few corpses as he made his way through Winterfell as he held onto her presence in the Force like a lifeline. He eventually found her along with Sansa Stark, Jayne Poole and the former Wildling woman Osha. The four had barricaded themselves into a storage room a short distance from the great hall. He'd just barely managed to make it to them before hearing Nyra's pained ridden scream coming from within. He didn't even think of his next few actions as he tore down the door, the framing and even part of the wall in order to get to her. The scene that greeted him was one that he knew would plague his dreams for years. Nyra on the ground, screaming as Sansa and Jayne held onto her hands with tear stained faces while the wildling woman held a hand to her stomach.

The Force had indeed favored Osha that day, for had it not been for him being poisoned that weakened him to the point where he was forced to use all his power just to keep himself upright, he more than likely would've smeared the woman across the wall. But instead his hand had been stayed long enough for Osha to explain to him that Nyra had been wounded and then healed by Sansa and that the child, their child, was coming.

The next few hours passed him by in a blur as Nyra was led to bed so she could give birth. A midwife from Winter Town had been brought into the keep as Maester Luwin, Talisa and anyone else who might've had the knowledge of birthing within Winterfell were currently busy helping the wounded. For several hours, Nyra wailed on the bed as she tried to deliver their child while Nox merely stayed by her side, her hand holding his in a vice-like grip. Eventually, Nyra gave out on last desperate scream as their child left her. But he knew, even without having to see the look on the midwifes face, he knew that it was all for naught. While Sansa had managed to heal Nyra, she could not heal death. And their child, their son, had died the moment that blade had run him through while he was still in Nyra's womb.

Even though their child was declared a stillbirth the midwife wrapped their child up in a soft blanket and gave him to Nyra to hold. Had he still the ability to do so he would've wept as Nyra held onto their stillborn son. Tears falling down her face as she mourned his death. But he could not. All he could do was hold onto Nyra as and try to give her what little strength he still had left as the two laid together and mourned for the son that'd been taken from them.

Finally feeling Nyra's breathing even out, Nox carefully extracted his hand from her own and got to his feet. He wanted to stay with her. Force knew he wanted too. But he couldn't. Not now. Not yet. He needed answers. Answers that he would not get just laying here. He needed to know how this had come to pass without him having even the slightest inkling of something wrong. He needed to meditate. And he needed to do so now while Nyra was still asleep, for he knew that the moment she awoke that he would not be able to.


Standing at the door to his son and heir's room, Ned Stark looked down at the scene presented to him with a heavy heart. His children, Jon included, and Jeyne Poole were all finally resting together in a large pile of blankets and pillows that'd been set on the floor while their respective wolves huddles in close to their chosen partner looking for warmth. It'd been nearly a full day since the attack on Winterfell and it had been without a doubt the longest day in his entire life. Even longer than the day he'd learned of his brother's and father's death at the hands of the Mad King. Ever since finding Cat and Rickon dead and Robb beating the corpse of the one responsible, he'd wanted to do nothing more than to stay with his children. But he wasn't allowed that luxury. As Warden of the North he had a duty. A duty that did not grant him a reprieve even with the death of his wife and youngest son.

He could only thank the gods for the help he'd received throughout the day in the forms of Jon and Brynden Tully. Jon had stayed with his siblings, comforting them as best he could. While the Blackfish had all but taken over command of the guards in conjunction with Jory to round up every perpetrator in the attack. A task which had proved to be a far greater than he'd originally anticipated. Not only because of the Houses seemingly involved in the attack, but because the attack hadn't been limited to just the main keep of Winterfell. No. The attack had occurred across Winterfell. Even Winter Town had not been spared from the bloodshed. A bloodshed that could've been far worse than it had been had Nox not insisted on the new training regimen for the Winterfell men-at-arms. Even though most had been inebriated or lax due to the festivities, they were still able to mount a quick and successful defense of Winterfell and Winter Town shortly after the attack begun. And if not for the skilled hands of Maester Luwin and Lady Talisa, not to mention the few students of Winterfell's college, then the aftermath of the battle would've seen a far high death toll than it had.

'Bolton. Dustin. Ryswell. Whitehill. Why launch an attack now? And how did you convince House Corbray to throw their lot in with you?' Those two questions had been plaguing his mind for nearly the entire day. The five houses, two of whom had little to no connection with the others, had panned out this attack meticulously. Prisoners from the Vale on the way to the Wall, only to be set loose so that they could cause as much havoc as possible. Poisoned wine to incapacitate the Nox. Men at arms carefully stationed around Winterfell to inflict maximum damage. Sellswords and assassins masquerading as merchants and bards. The plot must've taken years to plan and set up. But again, why? Why do this? Power? Fear? Envy? Greed? Revenge? No matter how hard he thought on it, he was unable to come up with a solid reasoning for the attack.

Hearing a low whine from next to him, Ned let his hand wander over blindly to the top of Winter's head. "I know girl," he said, scratching the giant direwolf behind her ears. He knew exactly what she was feeling, though how and why he didn't know. "We both failed our pups today. But never again."

He could feel a surge of acknowledgment coming from Winter as the mother direwolf turned and left the room before him. Grabbing the handle, he slowly closed the door to the room, taking care not to make any noise so that his children and their pups might find some rest. Securing the latch, he took a moment to meet the eye of the two Stark guards that'd been selected to stand outside his children's room. "No one. Save for myself, Lord Nox or the Blackfish are to come anywhere near this room. Am I understood?"

"Aye, Lord Stark." Both men agreed immediately.

Turning his back on the guards, he made his way towards his own room with Winter close at his side. As he walked, he couldn't help but notice the tell-tale marks of battle that still marred the halls of his home. Bloodstains on the floor. Broken doors and furniture in the halls. And the unmistakable smell of death that still hung in the air. 'What have we Starks done to anger the gods so to suffer such tragedy twice in my lifetime?' He pondered as he made his way into his room. Once a haven of warmth and love. Now only a cold reminder of what had once been. And what it would never be again without Cat there beside him.

'Thought it isn't just House Stark that suffered this time.' He thought with a heavy heart as he sat down in a chair before his hearth. A low fire burning providing the slightest bit of warmth as Winter laid down between him and fire. Resting his elbows on his knees and burying his head in his hands, his mind wandered towards the toll the attempted coup - for it could be described as nothing else - had taken on Winterfell, the North and her people.

His friend, Alim Nox, had been poisoned. Badly. Maester Luwin had been able to identify at least two of the poison's that'd been put into his wine as being the Tears of Lys and the Strangler. Both of which had been present in a large enough quantity to kill an elephant. The fact that Nox was able to survive, let alone overcome the poisoning was a miracle. One of the few of the night. But the gods only knew when he would be back to full strength. And Lady Nox, gods, just thinking about her made his heart ache for his friend. Mercifully, whatever Sansa had done to the new Lady of House Nox had saved her life. Unfortunately, because of the trauma she'd endured the child ended up coming early and was a stillbirth. He'd experienced many horrific sights in his life. More than anyone one man ever should in his opinion. But seeing Nox hold his wife while Lady Nox wailed as the two held onto their lifeless child… Many had likened Nox to be the aspect of the Stranger incarnate. And in that moment, Ned truly believed that his friend was indeed the aspect of death.

Lady Nox's near death and their child's death was just the beginning. His steward, Vayon Poole had been found dead in the hall just outside the great hall. The man split nearly in two from naval to collarbone. Rickard Karstark had also been killed during the attack. The Lord of Karhold and one of House Starks closest allies had been one of the first to fall after the attempt on Lord and Lady Nox. He'd taken a bolt to the back along with two daggers. And while his eldest son Harrion Karstark was old enough to take up the mantle of Karhold, the same could not necessarily be said of Castle Cerwyn. The current Lord – now previous - Lord Medger Cerwyn had been another casualty of the attack within the great hall. Which meant that his ten name-day son Clay would have to take up the responsibilities of Lord. Mercifully, Castle Cerwyn was but a day's ride from Winterfell so he would be able to aid the young boy as best he could. But that could hardly be considered a good thing.

The Northern Houses were not the only ones to suffer during the attack. Yohn Royce and his three sons; Andor, Robar and Waymar had all been at the feast as well when the attack broke out. The Bronce Knight had only sustained minor injuries at best, but his sons were not as fortunate. Both Robar and Waymar had sustained significant injuries that would lay them up for at least a moon. And he'd been informed not an hour earlier that Yohn's oldest son Andor had succumb to the wounds he'd received during the attack.

If those had been the extent of the casualties Ned would've considered themselves fortunate. But that was not to be the case. For it wasn't just the nobles nor those in the great hall that had suffered. Or perhaps it was more correct to say that those in the great hall had suffered the least. The damage done across Winterfell and Winter Town had been far more extensive than he could've ever imagined. A hundred strong of the small folks were dead with twice as many now injured. Some so severely that it was doubtful that they would recover. Dozens of men-at-arms belonging to all houses were dead or dying. And at least a dozen women, both young and old, had been found brutalized and raped. Including Septa Mordane. Her corpse had been found in the still smoldering remains of what had once been the small Sept that he'd had built for his wife. It was difficult to tell just what exactly had happened, but it was obvious that the woman had not died easily nor quickly. And while he might've had his own problems with the woman, it was a fate that no one deserved.

While the toll of the attack was indeed high, Ned was not foolish enough to believe it was as worse as it could've been. He'd been through two wars and had seen the immediate aftermath of the Sacking of Kings Landing. If not for the quick, yet inebriated actions, of those that were loyal to House Stark and if not for Nox's quick recovery, then Ned was positive that the death toll would've been far greater. While many had risen to House Stark's defense there were two, outside of Nox, that could truly be credited with bringing an end to the attack within the great hall before rushing out to defend Winterfell. Greatjon Umber and Maege Mormont. Though neither managed to escape from the attempt unharmed. The Greatjon had taken several crossbow bolts and daggers to both his front and back. The fact that the man was even still amongst the living was a testament to Lady Talisa's skill as a healer. But as good as she was, she was no miracle worker. And while the Greatjon would live his left arm was now next to useless and he would be cursed with a limp for the rest of his life. And Maege Mormont had received a dagger across the face, leaving a scar from temple to jaw that cross her left eye and destroying said eye in the process. Yet despite their state and injuries, the two fought through most of the night in order to bring an end to the attack.

On the floor, Winter's head rose up off the floor and turned towards the door. "Come in Blackfish," he called out before the man could even raise a fist to knock on his closed door.

Staying in his seat, Ned watched the flames dance across the wood in his hearth as a clearly tired Blackfish made his way into the room before shutting the door behind him. "I don't suppose that I need to ask how you knew I was out there without even seeing or hearing me?"

"No," Ned answered simply, less in a mood for small talk than he usually was, "have you and Jory finished rounding up the last of the conspirators?"

"Aye," the Blackfish nodded, moving to stand beside Ned, "all of the bards save for the one who actually managed to kill a few of his fellow bards and knocked Ludd Whitehill out have been rounded up. Same with everyone associated with the rebel houses. The Lords, Ladies, heirs and their surviving men-at-arms have all been secured in the dungeon. The younger children have been placed into a secured section of the main keep with a constant rotating guard. Based on what we know, there might be a few stragglers that managed to get away during the commotion, but they're cowardly sellswords at best who ran at the first sign of trouble. I dispatched those Rangers of yours to hunt them all down and bring them back to Winterfell dead or alive. I've also placed a lockdown order on both Winter Town and Winterfell. No one enters or leaves until you say so Ned."

'Thank the gods for the Blackfish,' Ned thought, nodding along as Ser Brynden spoke on what had been done since he'd handed off the reigns to the man. "You have my thanks Ser Brynden, and the thanks of Hou-"

"There's no need for that formal shit Ned," the Blackfish cut him off, "she…she was my niece as well as your wife. Hells, she was practically my daughter. And Rickon, he was my great-nephew as well. My only regret is that I didn't have the chance to kill more of those bastards before your sorcerer brought an end to the fighting. Gods I've heard the stories of what that man can do…but to actually see it in person is something else entirely."

"Aye, that he is," Ned agreed with Brynden's assessment. The Blackfish wasn't exaggerating matters. The fighting in the great hall, while bloody and brutal, had been very short lived. The moment after Nox had seemingly recovered his powers by turning those two men into little more than husks and then turning a third man into little more than ash with his lightning, almost all fight had left the assassins in the great hall. A few, mostly the Lords who'd had a hand in the attack, pressed on until they were forced to submit. But the sellswords and assassins masquerading as men-at-arms and bards had quickly thrown down their weapons and surrender after seeing what fate was awaiting them. And it was fortunate that they had. The moment the fighting was done Nox had all but collapsed and had to be half-led half-carried to where his Lady wife was hold up.

"I hesitate to ask but…how are the children?"

The pain that'd just started to dull returned with a vengeance as his thoughts turned to his children once more. Each of his children had reacted in their own way to the news. Robb and Jon, who'd born witness to Cat's death, obviously both blamed themselves for not being fast enough to save her and Rickon. And as much as he'd wanted to be the one to end the assassins that killed his wife and son, he was not about to begrudge Robb his actions in beating the assassin to death. Nor would he begrudge Jon his inaction in not stopping Robb. He'd been in a similar state the day he'd learned of the death of his own father and brother. And had the Mad King been within his reach, he was sure that he would've beaten the decrepit old fool to death with his bare hands as well. Bran had broken down in tears and refused had clung to Ned until he'd cried himself to sleep.

Arya's reaction had worried him the most. She hadn't cried, she merely went mute and just stood there while staring off into the distance at nothing. At first, he'd thought that it was simply that she was too young to understand just what was going on. But after seeing Nox's reaction, he knew better. She was reacting to the news of her mother and brother's death in the same manner that Nox had reacted to the news of his own son's death: a quiet rage. One that had him more than slightly worried about what she would do next. She'd already killed one man, something that filled him with no small amount of anguish as no child her age should ever have blood on their hands. But he knew full well that while the first kill was the hardest, it got progressively easier which each additional kill. And given what she was capable of…he would have to keep a close eye on both her and the prisoners until the trials and executions were over and done with.

Sansa's reaction had been what he'd expected and more. She'd broken down completely. Crumbling into a heap and wailing uncontrollably. She'd been the closest of his children to Cat, and he knew that her death would affect her deeply. But it wasn't just Cat's death that had obviously brought his daughter to such a state. He'd always been afraid of the day when his daughter would discover the truth of the world. That it wasn't picture-perfect like in the stories she loved to hear from her mother and Septa Mordane. He'd just hoped that when that day came that it wouldn't be too hard of a blow. But that request had been denied. Sansa's view of what she thought of the world and of the nobility and knights had not been broken. It'd been shattered. And then stomped upon by a team of horses.

"They've lost their mother and brother," Ned responded curtly. "Robb and Jon are…they're doing their best to give what comfort they can when I am not with them. But it is a pain that will not fade anytime soon."

Brynden seemed to accept that as the older man nodded his head. "I just wish that I knew why this happened. I'd heard of the supposed animosity between House Stark and House Bolton since I was but a boy. But it wasn't like the feud between House Bracken and Blackwood. At least it hadn't been for centuries. But still, to think that they would try this now…and to cajole Lyn Crobray into their scheme as well…"

That question, the why, had been plaguing Ned since the moment fighting stopped. He knew that he'd won no favors from House Dustin after getting William Dustin killed at the Tower of Joy. And the fact that Roose Bolton had a familial connection to the Ryswell and the by extension House Dustin through Barbrey explained their participation…but still. Why now of all times? Had he not brought vengeance to the dragons for what they'd done to the North when they executed the Warden of the North and his heir? Had he not fought tooth and nail to make the Ironborn pay for raiding their shores? Had he not taken in the children of the Ironborn and tried to show them a better path so that they might be free of raiding in the future? Had he not worked tirelessly for years to bring advancement and commerce through the North? Or…perhaps he was just overthinking it. The reason, if one chooses the simplest explanation as Nox had often encouraged him to do, was often the correct. Power. They wanted power. Vengeance could've played a role as well, but it was power that they were after.

Getting up from his seat, he stepped over Winter and made his way towards the large set of glass windows that'd recently been installed in his and Cat's room. Gazing out over the darkened North, Ned tried desperately to put the pieces together. 'Father always told us to never turn our backs to the former Red Kings unless you had someone you trusted behind them with a dagger poised at their back. I'd forgotten that lesson. Roose had proven himself a capable commander during the Rebellion and a seemingly capable Lord after the fighting was done. Perhaps his years of loyalty was all just a mummer's farce. Perhaps he had been planning this for years, waiting for a moment when I would let my guard slip. But even if that were the case, Roose was a prudent man. A very prudent man. He would not act in this manner unless he was all but guaranteed success. But then the question becomes, how did he become so sure of this plan? And how did he manage to convince a notable house of the Vale to take part as well? And it wasn't just the Vale. The sellswords were not of the North…some didn't even seem to be of Westeros. So how did Roose acquire their services? And how did he get them into the North without alerting Lord Manderly in White Harbor? He couldn't have done this alone. Not even as a group would the houses be able to do this. They had help. But from whom?'

"Sellswords from across Westeros and perhaps even Essos," Ned said aloud, "several houses spread across the North aligned together. Along with a House from the Vale as well. This plot…it must've taken years to properly plan and organize. And while I do not doubt the resourcefulness of Roose Bolton, this plot was beyond him."

Brynden caught on quickly. "You believe someone else was pulling their strings? Made the plan, provided the coin and swords and then disappeared in order to not get their hands dirty."

"Aye."

Scratching at his beard, the Blackfish looked more than slightly uncomfortable with the prospect. "If - and I stress if - that is the case…then there are only a few who have the coin and the influence to make such a move. And they will be in positions of power and influence. And they will more than likely have powerful friends to back them once they're involvement is revealed."

"I know," Ned acknowledge. But Ned had powerful friends as well. Mainly in Robert and Jon Arryn. And while he despised the game that southern nobles loved to play, if it meant protecting his family then he would play their stupid game and destroy them all. "And once they've learned that their plot failed, they will work to cover their tracks and erase any connection between themselves and those who held the knives."

"Give me a few days with those traitorous bastards and a few of your best not-so-squeamish men. I'll find out who backing this farce."

Torture. Just the mere thought set Ned's stomach on edge. But he knew that he would have to set aside his personal feelings on the matter when dealing with the traitorous. Northern law was very clear on what was to happen to nobility that betrayed the North. His vassals would be expecting it. And he would be lying if he denied that there was a not-so-small part of him was looking forward to what was to come. "I appreciate your willingness to help Blackfish," Ned said, rising from his seat and turning towards Cat's uncle. "But what you suggest will take time. Time that we do not necessarily have. We need to find out who was aiding the traitorous fast before word of their failure goes beyond the North. And there is only one that can get us that information in a such a limited time."

Walking out of his solar with the Blackfish right behind him, Nox made his way through his home and towards the guest quarters of Winterfell. He knew that he was drawing closer to his goal as he suddenly felt a heavy weight pressing on his shoulders, a weight which the Blackfish felt as well as the man's steps fumbled, and he began muttering under his breath. The only reason why Ned wasn't similarly affected was that he'd experienced this type of phenomenon several times over the past few years. But it'd never been like this. He could almost taste the fear and anger in the very air. To say it was unnerving would be understating matters greatly, and it was no wonder why this section of the guest quarters, which had until just yesterday been completely full, was now all but deserted.

"What in the Seven hells is this?" The elder Tully muttered as he visibly shivered beside Ned.

"A glimpse of what is to come," Ned muttered as the two stopped outside a seemingly random door which opened on its own as the two approached. "It'd be best if you stay out here for the time being."

It wasn't that Ned thought the Blackfish to be a craven, far from it. The man had fought in more wars than Ned and had never once shied away from his duty. But considering all that had happened over the past day Ned wasn't completely sure of his friend's state of mind. And until he was, it would be best to not impose too heavily on Nox's voluntary seclusion. The Blackfish didn't need much convincing as the man quickly gave his consent and took up a spot down the hall to ensure that the two would not be disturbed. Not that Ned thought anyone would dare venture anywhere close, but the action was appreciated.

Steeling himself, Ned pushed open the door and walked inside the open room. The room looked like it'd been ransacked. Every piece of furniture within the room hadn't just been upended or torn apart. No. It'd all been obliterated with the only evidence of their previous existence being the shards and splinters of wood scattered throughout the room. And in the center of the destruction, floating in a sitting position at nearly head height, was Nox. The moment Ned stepped fully into the room, the door shut on its own behind him and Nox silently flipped backwards and landed on his feet without making a sound.

"Life in the Sith Empire was never an easy one, no matter the position you held." His friend began without preamble, remaining in the center of the room with his back turned towards Ned. "Those beneath you would be constantly seeking ways to take your place while those above you would do all they could to make sure that you wouldn't take theirs. And those who just happened to be on the same level with you would gladly stab you in the back the moment it was advantageous for them to do so. You had to maintain a constant watch on your vassals, your 'allies' and your rulers. For one such as I, a slave who managed to fight and claw my way to the top, I could almost set my day by the attempts on my life. But since I came to this land, I have forgotten what I learned in the Empire. I grew soft. Overconfident. I was so sure of my position here in the North that I let my defenses falter. And now, the price of my laxity has been paid in blood. The blood of my son. The blood of my wife. And the blood of countless others."

"No one could've foreseen this coming Nox." Ned said, trying to convince both himself and his friend with his words.

Shaking his head, Nox scoffed and began pacing back and forth. "I should have. Ever since I ended the threat in Valyria I've been sensing disturbances from the Force. But they were muddled. Distant. Uncertain. I let my guard down and put the disturbances to the back of my mind, thinking they were but an omen of what was to come in the far future. But I was wrong. In more ways than one. Our enemy is far cleverer than I gave them credit for. I couldn't figure just what was happening until today. And now that I have…it is a wonder why I hadn't figured it out before."

"Our enemy? The White Walkers?" Ned asked, dreading the thought of the ancient enemy of man doing something that had put even the famed Northern Sorcerer on such an edge. "What have they done?"

"One of the greatest weapons a Force sensitive has is the ability of precognition, or foresight if you will." Nox explained after a moment of silence. "It allows one to sense danger before it happens as well as peer into possibilities of the future during meditation. And once you know what you're doing you can even use it to find certain individuals across great distances. However, if something were to be done to alter the Force ever so slightly in order to disrupt the careful balance it has between the light and the dark then it would be possible to disrupt certain Force abilities. And these White Walkers…they have altered the way Force itself flows through this land. Which in turn creates slight disruptions in the Force that are almost unnoticeable but can prove to be extremely dangerous. I can name several ways in which this could've been done, each of which takes considerable time and effort in order to accomplish. But that is not what is important. What is important is the effect their tampering has had on the way the Force flows through the land. They've altered the balance of the Force and made precognition almost impossible and created a Force Cloud around themselves to hide their movements."

He did not like the sound of that. The thought of the White Walkers and their army of the dead from legends was worrying enough. Add that they could not only utilize the same magic as Nox and his children but also apparently had the ability to fundamentally change it. It made him wonder just how truly powerful these creatures were. "So, what you're saying is they've done something to prevent your ability to see the future?"

"Aye. Though this wasn't done specifically to target my own ability of foresight or other abilities," Nox countered, "this land was rife with Force users long before I ever came here. The North itself was known for those with greensight and those with ability to skinchange. The White Walkers more than likely put the foundations in place centuries ago. And now that they are ready to move, they've activated their clouding and muddled others ability to see the future. And I fucking missed it!"

Ned nearly jumped as Nox spun in place the threw his hand out in a slashing motion. What was left of a desk, at least he believed it had once been a desk, slammed against the far wall, shattering into even more splinters and leaving nothing more than dust. "And my son…my son paid for my negligence. And Nyra…had it not been for Sansa healing her…I would've lost her as well."

Fighting to slow his racing heart, Ned kept his voice level. "Is there a way to undo what they've done?"

"Yes," Nox nodded, though he didn't seem pleased. "The quickest way would be to kill the one who is maintaining the disturbance. But now that they're safely concealed in a Force Cloud, I could stand right next to them and not even realize they are the one responsible. The slower method would require counteracting whatever they've done in the Force. But without knowing what exactly they've done to throw off the balance of the Force, I could spend decades in a meditative trance day and night without rest and not even begin to start counteracting their disruption. The only other option would be to travel as far away as possible and see if I can leave their sphere of influence on the Force. But given how much time they've had to create this plan; it is quite likely that the flow of Force throughout this entire world has been corrupted to suit their needs."

"So, what do we do?"

"We adjust as best we can," Nox responded. "This is a setback, but they've also revealed what they are capable of. And now that we know what they can do, we can adjust and plan accordingly. But you haven't come and disturbed my meditation just for a lesson on the Force, have you?"

"No," Ned answered, shaking his head.

His friends hand tightened into a fist as small wisp of what looked like smoke began wafting from his very body. 'He seems like he is in control. But that control is balancing on a knifes edge with a strong wind constantly blowing it back and forth. And I suspect the only reason he is even in the remotest of control right now is because of the state of this room.' "You've realized it as well, haven't you?" Nox said, making Ned start slightly. "Bolton. Dustin. Ryswell. Whitehill. Corbray. They might be clever, but their resources are not infinite. Contracting sellswords and assassins from across Westeros and even parts of Essos all the while keeping their actions hidden from view…they do not have the resources nor ability to do such a thing. Not alone anyway. They are but the knives that were used to remove yourself and I. And the one who would wield them is still out there."

"Aye, that is my thought as well." Ned nodded, before taking a breath and mentally preparing himself for what he was about to ask of his friend. "You lost your son…I lost my wife and son. Dozens, no, a hundred or more are dead or dying. I won't let this go. I – I need your help. Just as it was during the Greyjoy Rebellion…I need Darth Nox once more."

Ceasing his pacing, Nox turned and walked closer until the two were but a hands width from one another. "You know what you are asking right?" Nox asked, though going by his tone Ned knew that his friends mind was already set on this course of action. He was merely giving him one last chance to keep his name out of what was to come. "Once I start down this path, I will not stop. They took my son from me. They nearly took my wife from me. And they will learn just what it means to try and take something precious from a Lord of the Sith. Anyone who took part in this. Anyone who know about this. Anyone who stood to profit from this. I'm going to kill them all. And make no mistake Lord Stark. We will get bloody during this. And innocents will get caught in the middle. Can you handle that?"

War. This would lead to war. With whom he didn't know. But he knew that it would lead them to war. The honorable part of him, the part that baulked at even the thought of an innocent being hurt tried to make its voice heard within him. But it was vastly overwhelmed by another part within him. An aspect of himself that he tried to deny. An aspect that had truly not made itself known since the day he had learned of the deaths of his father and brother at the hands the Mad King. Only this time, there was no Jon Arryn to calm him down. And he would not be calmed down this time. Turning his back on Nox, he made his way to leave the room. "Vigils will be held tonight for the dead," he said, placing his hand on the latch, "the funerals will be held tomorrow. After that…do whatever you deem necessary to find out who else had a hand in this. And we will deal with them accordingly. Together."

"Good," Nox replied. "Oh, and one last thing Ned. The one who killed my son and who almost killed my wife."

"Ser Lyn Corbray." Ned answered the unasked question.

"He is mine to deal with."

"What do you plan to do with him?" He asked, not entirely sure he wanted to know or not.

"Does it matter?" Nox asked, "he will die. But before he does, I will make sure that he becomes a lesson that will spread across the land about what it means to cross a Sith Lord."

Given what honor and Northern law demanded to happen to the traitors Lords, Ned found that he didn't have any reason to deny Nox's request. "Very well. He is yours to deal with as you see fit."


Two days after the attack that'd shaken Winterfell to its core, Nox found himself standing outside the gates of Winterfell beside his wife, a bundle of cloth tucked tightly in her arms, while around them nearly the entirety of Winterfell and Winter Town gathered as the sun just barely started to crest the horizon. Not a single voice was heard as the denizens of Winterfell stared out at the scene before them. Dozens of funeral pyres that'd been assembled over the course of the previous day and night. And each, save for the four closest to those assembled were laden with dozens fallen men and women of the North. Without a word spoken, the crowd parted, giving way to men half a dozen men wearing the sigil of House Karstark. Between them, they carried the body of the former Lord of Karhold, Rickard Karstark. Just behind the men carrying their fallen Lord were his children; the new Lord Harrion, Eddard, Torrhen and Alys. Reaching the nearest pyre, the men lifted the former Lord onto the pyre. After setting the fallen Lord down upon the logs, the men of House Karstark gave the fallen man one last bow of respect before backing away so that his children could take their turns saying goodbye before walking back and standing in line with the rest.

The process was repeated with the fallen Lord Medger Cerwyn, who was proceeded by his son Clay and daughter Jonelle. Once they'd taken their places, the crowd parted again. This time allowing a procession led by Jory Cassel, who was acting as honor guard for Vayon Poole. The only family left to the man was his daughter Jeyne, who was openly weeping and had to be almost forcibly led away by Jory after the former steward of Winterfell had been placed on his pyre. Once they were clear, a delegation from the Vale led by Lord Royce and accompanied by his two surviving sons, both of whom were leaning heavily on others to keep them upright, led a procession for the eldest son of House Royce, Andor Royce. The old man kept his face completely passive, but Nox could feel the pain of the man as clear as a midday sun as his eldest was laid upon the funeral pyre.

Feeling Nyra stiffen beside him, Nox took her hand in his own, trying his best to give her what strength he could. Together, the two walked forward to the nearest pyre. And as one, they carefully set down the small bundle that Nyra had been carrying. With a shaking hand, Nyra smoothed out the cloth surrounding their son as if smoothing out the sheets on a bed before leaning down and placing a light kiss upon their dead son's brow. "Goodbye Khem," Nyra's voice was so full of pain and sorrow that Nox felt his own self-control slipping quickly from his grasp. "I love you my son. Rest now with the gods and our ancestors. And one day, we will meet again."

As Nyra pulled back, Nox reached out and let his fingers gently caress his son's face. A son that had been robbed of his chance at life before he could even start to live it. "The Force is with you my son. And now, you are with the Force." Pulling back Nyra all but collapsed into his chest and started sobbing loudly as the two made their way away from the pyre and back to their place in line.

Hearing the crowd shuffle and move, Nox turned his attention towards the gates of Winterfell as a large contingent of Stark men-at-arms led by Ser Bryden Tully marched out with the Stark family close behind along with the direwolves that'd bonded to the Stark family. Hoisted up on the men's shoulders was a boat that'd been hastily constructed. Reaching the last remaining pyre, the men-at-arms lowered the boat to the ground. Within the boat were the bodies of Catelyn Stark, Rickon Stark and the boy's wolf pup. One by one, the children of House Stark and their wolves took their turns approaching the boat and saying their last farewells to their lost mother and brother. Robb had tried to stay impassive, but Nox could feel the pain in the boy no matter how well he masked it. Sansa, her voice mostly healed from her Force Scream, openly wailed as she tucked her mother's hair behind an ear. Arya had perhaps the most subdued farewell, but there was no mistaking the tears running down her face. And Bran could hardly say anything as he started weeping uncontrollably, only to be led away by Robb.

With the children's farewells done, Ned stepped forward and knelt beside his wife and son. His words of goodbye hardly more than a slight mumbling as he caressed his wife and son's face one last time. Rising, Ned nodded to the men at arms, who immediately hoisted the makeshift boat up onto the last pyre and moved back to stand with his children. With all the pyres now filled, several guards carrying torches made their way to the front of the assembled crowd and began handing them off to various Lords and Ladies who's loved ones now rested upon the pyres. Taking a torch that a guard had held out for him, Nox let go of Nyra and built a wall around his heart for what was about to happen.

The distance between the pyre holding his son and himself was only a few meters at best, but it was without a doubt the hardest few meters he had ever crossed in his entire life. Once everyone was in position, Lord Stark held his torch high, letting everyone seeing the burning flame before throwing it onto the pyre holding his wife. Taking their cue, each man or woman holding a torch proceeded to light the pyres of the dead. "Goodbye Khem, my son," he said, reaching out and caressing his son one last time through the Force before letting the torch fall and igniting the pyre holding his infant son.

As soon as he was back with Nyra, his wife all but threw herself into his arms. And together they stood side by side, drawing what comfort they could from one another as they watched the flames rise around their son.

All of Winterfell was silent, the only noise the sound of fire burning as the funeral pyres burned. But as the fires burned, a calm woman's voice, Nox didn't know whose, started singing softly before gaining in strength until she could easily be heard by all present.

"Shadowns fall. And hope has fled. Steel your heart, the dawn will come. The night is long, and the path is dark. Look to the sky for one day soon. The dawn will come."

Beside him, Nyra stiffened and sniffed loudly as the song settled over the crowd. Tilting her head back, Nyra's soft soprano voice joined in as the song continued. "The shepherd's lost, and his home is far. Keep to the stars, the dawn will come."

Down the line, Sansa's young voice joined in as well as the eldest daughter of House Stark held tightly onto the hand of her friend Jeyne. "The night is long, and the path is dark. Look to the sky for one day soon. The dawn will come."

Like a wave from the sea, the song quickly spread across the crowd standing before the burning pyres till nearly every voice, from Lord and Lady to peasant, joined in. "Bare your blade and raise it high. Stand your ground, the dawn will come. The night is long, and the path is dark. Look to the sky, for one day soon. The dawn will come. The night is long, and the path is dark. Look to the sky, for one day soon. The dawn will come."

The song launched into a refrain, and as it did Nox began to sing as well. But while many were seemingly drawing strength and hope from the song, and he could understand why, Nox was drawing only anger as he watched through the Force as the fire ate away at his son. And as his anger grew, he restated the promise he'd made to Ned just the night before. 'Anyone who stood to profit from this. Anyone who had a hand in the planning of this. Anyone who had even a passing knowledge of this…they will all learn just what it means to take something precious from a Sith Lord. There will be no negotiation. And there will be no mercy. I swear it on the Force.'


Resting with his back against the cold stone wall of his cell, Lord Ludd Whitehill sat in contemplative silence as he stared out from the bars of his cell. While many would've been regretting their decisions that landed them in such state, he was not one of them. He knew full well what he was doing when he agreed to betray the Starks. And he knew full well the consequences of failure. And if he had the chance to go back and do it all over again, he would still make the same decision as he had all those years ago when he'd first been approached about the idea of ending the Stark line and installing a new Warden of the North.

'How?' He thought, letting his head fall forward. 'How did it all go wrong? Our plan was flawless. And everything was going perfectly…so how? How did it come to this?'

While he was not part of the initial parties that gave birth to the plan to overthrow the Starks, when it'd been presented to him, he could find no fault in it. The plan already had the backing of House Bolton, House Ryswell, House Dustin, House Stout and House Corbray of the Vale. Though how the Vale House had been convinced to through their lot in he had no idea. Perhaps Lyn Corbray simply wanted the prestige of taking down the Northern Sorcerer, a man that many considered to be invincible on the field of battle after the very brief Greyjoy Rebellion. But while the reasoning behind House Corbray's participation was a mystery to him, he fully understood the Northern Houses motivation. The Bolton's were descendants of the 'Red Kings' of old. The greatest rival to the Starks ever since both Houses were first formed. And it was an open secret in the North that the Bolton's were waiting for the first moment of weakness to show in the Starks. And that the moment it did, they would pounce and remove their longtime rival.

House Dustin's participation was expected. Afterall, Lady Barbrey Dustin had once been said to have had quite the dalliance with the former heir of Winterfell, Brandon Stark. And there were even rumors that the two were to wed. But then Lord Rickard Stark ended those rumors as he announced his son and heir's engagement to Catelyn Tully of the Riverlands. Barbrey was then married off to Lord William Dustin, who had been a loyal vassal to House Stark for centuries. But Eddard's actions in retrieving his sister's corpse resulted in William's death, leaving Barbrey a widow. A very angry widow. House Stark had given her a taste of what she could have, and then taken it all away. And as the old saying went, 'hells hath no fury like a woman scorned'. And Barbrey was very much a scorned woman twice over. And with House Dustin's participation, House Stout, a knightly house that was a direct vassal to House Dustin, was expected to go along. And seeing as how Lady Dustin had come from House Ryswell and that Lord Roose's deceased wife was from House Ryswell and Lady Dustin's sister, their participation was expected as well.

The number of Houses that'd agreed to the removal of the Starks was impressive. But having a strong showing of support was not enough to convince Ludd to throw his lot in. No, that decision had been made after every detail of the plan had been laid out before him. The plan was to launch the coup during Robb Starks three-and-ten nameday celebration. A celebration that almost every House in the North would be obliged to attend. They would substitute the bards that would be in attendance with assassins and spend the days leading up to the celebration putting their own men and assassins in key areas around Winterfell to ensure there were no survivors. A special poison had even been provided to them, which they'd been assured would put the wolf's pet sorcerer out of commission for good. And once all witness and leadership in the North was eliminated, those that were in on the plan would send a message throughout the realm that the sorcerer and the wolf's bastard had launched a surprise attack and tried to kill the Starks. Given the general view on bastards and on the sorcerer, it would've been easy to place the blame on them. Especially with no one around to counter the claims. And they'd even had insurances that the King would believe their tale. Then Sansa Stark would then be wed to Roose Bolton's heir, ensuring the loyalty of those that had not attended the celebration. The Red Kings would have finally had their revenge against the Starks and take the place as Warden of the North, Lady Barbrey would've gotten her revenge, Ser Corbray would've gained even more prestige for his part in taking down the sorcerer. And as for himself, he'd been guaranteed the lands of House Forrester as well as the banishment or extinction of the wretched family as well! The rewards had been worth the risks.

But as the time for action drew closer, faults began forming in their seemingly perfect plan. The first true fault in the plan showed itself a year ago when it was announced across the land that the sorcerer would be taking the newest Northern ship and several heirs and spares on a voyage to raid Valyria. The timing was atrocious. If the sorcerer and the bastard were not around during Robb's nameday celebration, then they couldn't kill them or place the blame at their feet. Personally, he'd wanted to delay the coup. But Roose had cautioned patience. They had nearly a year to reach Valyria and return. And considering the already significant amount of coin and effort that had gone into procuring several needed assets, it wasn't easy to just simply delay the attempt until the next opportunity.

But the gods seemed to smile on their plot as, with less two months until the set date, word arrived that the sorcerer had returned to Westeros soil and was making his way back North. Then after Starks announcement of the wedding of the sorcerer to that upstart serving girl, they knew that they would never have a better opportunity. The sorcerer was a man that was well known to be cautious. But even the most cautious of men let down their guard during their own wedding celebration. So, with less than a few days before Robb's nameday, the decision was made to move the attack to the sorcerer's wedding celebration.

And things had started off perfectly to plan. The sorcerer was clearly enamored with his new bride and had let down his guard. The servants, many of whom idolized the whore because of her upbringing, had also let loose enough so that they didn't notice the subtle change of guards or the switching of wine. And throughout the celebration, Ludd and his son Torrhen had kept to their parts by making sure that those who were most loyal to the Starks; namely the Karstarks, Umbers, Mormonts and Manderly's were supplied with enough drink to ensure that they would not be able to interfere with what was about to happen.

Then it happened. The sorcerer downed the wine with the poison and true to their benefactor's words it had taken effect almost immediately. He could still feel the rush of glee that'd surged within him when the sorcerer had been bent over, clawing at his throat and gut while desperately trying to breathe. But that had been the end of their good fortune. In order to ensure that sorcerer was indeed put down, Roose had selected two of the best marksmen amongst the assassins and had given them the task of putting a pair of crossbow bolts through the sorcerer's and his little whore's hearts. But the first assassin had missed. And instead of piercing the sorcerer's heart, the bolt had instead buried itself into the man's shoulder. Then, gods only knew how, the sorcerer had managed to get his arm out to shield his little whore from the second bolt, thereby saving her life.

Even with the immediate failure to end the sorcerer, there'd still been hope. The hall had descended into chaos as the attack began and the sorcerer was unable to use his magic. After watching the sorcerer stumble and two close allies of Stark fall, Ludd had thought that they'd salvaged the coup. Then it all went to shite. His eldest son Torrhen and his master-at-arms Harys had descended upon the unsuspecting sorcerer with their daggers, ready to end his life. The sorcerer reached out and grabbed both his son and Harys by the throats. He had no words for what happened next, but the sorcerer had turned both his son and Harys into little more than lifeless husks. And in doing so he seemingly cured himself of the poison as if their very lives were the antidotes to the poison.

Ludd had known then and there that it was over. Even more so after he watched the sorcerer turn a man to dust with that strange magic of his. Seeing that, he knew there was no hope. The tides of the fight within the hall immediately turned as the sellswords and assassins started throwing down their arms and surrendering, no doubt hoping for some form of mercy. But those of the North knew better. There would be no mercy. Not for this. So Ludd had launched himself at the sorcerer, hoping to either kill the man who'd taken his son from him or to be killed. Before he could even reach him, something had struck him across the back of his head. And he was just barely able to make out the image of his attacker as one of the bards he knew wasn't part of the plot before the man's fist met his face. Then he woke up here, chained like an animal waiting for its turn to be slaughtered.

"Seven protect us. May the Mother grant her mercy upon us. May the Father grant us his strength. M –"

"Shut your fucking mouth Andal shite! It's bad enough just sitting here in our shite, I don't want to listen to your shite as well!"

Cracking open an eye, Ludd peered through bars into the dimly lit dungeon. No doubt one of the squires that had accompanied the knights of the Vale. The little shit had been rambling non-stop for mercy and protection for the past day. And it appeared that Lord Ryswell had finally ran out of patience with the boy. Even Ludd, who's House was one of the few Northern Houses that followed the Seven, had run out with patience with the boy's endless groveling and praying for mercy and protection. The Seven had no power, not here in the heart of the North were the hold gods were at the height of their power. If they had, then their plan would've worked like it'd supposed to have.

Already knowing another argument was about to take place over matters of faith or blame, Ludd closed his eyes once more and did his best to block out the arguing. They were scared. At least the younger lads were, and their fear was making them irrational. What they didn't realize though was that there was no point in worrying about what was about to happen. To an extent, their fear was understandable. They had just tried to assassinate the Warden of the North and his entire family. Their lives were forfeit. Unless you were smart and had a contingency plan in place to buy your freedom. Which Ludd had. He doubted that he would be able to keep his place as of Lord of Highpoint, but at the very least he would be able to buy his freedom and live out the rest of his days in Essos. He would be an exile, but he would still be alive. And he knew just the angle to use on Lord Stark. The man was known for his impeccable honor and his distaste for the great game. Which also made him quite a fool in Ludd's opinion. He would play the foolish Lord Stark like a fiddle and ensure his head stayed firmly attached to his shoulders and be across the Narrow Sea in a moon's turn or two at most.

He'd been so engrossed in his own planning, that he hadn't even noticed that all the arguing outside of his cell had ceased. Nor had he noticed that the air had grown steadily colder until it was at the point where he started shivering. 'Cold?' He shivered, holding out his hands and breathing into them, yet failing to see his own breath in the dim light. 'No. It's…it's not cold in here yet…yet why am I so cold? What…what is this?'

Footsteps. Slow methodical footsteps were the only answer he was given as the cold seemed to press down on his very soul. 'Not cold. Fear. What…who can cause such. No…gods please no.' His entire being shaking like a leaf in the wind, Ludd slowly inched towards the bars of his cell, trying to see who was coming. Yet in his heart, he already knew. There was only one who could cause this cold. This fear. He read about this countless times. Yet never in his wildest dreams had he ever imagined it would be like this. 'Don't be alone. Don't be alone. Don't be alone. Seven, don't let him be alone!'

But as he feared, the Seven could not hear his prayers. And as he stared down the darkened line of cells, he felt his stomach drop as the shadows almost seemed to move as perhaps the one individual he never wanted to see again emerged from the darkness into the dim light of the torches. His black cloak and black clothes almost making him seem like one with the darkness behind him. Shrinking back from the bards, Ludd grasped his hands together tightly to cease their shaking as the Sorcerer slowly made his way down the line of cells before stopping and the end and making his way back towards the beginning.

"Please my lord!" The young praying boy, who Ludd now recognized as Ser Corbray's squire Mychel Redfort, cried out as the sorcerer passed him by. "Please! I had nothing to do with whatever happened! Please sir! I – I didn't know or do – ahh!"

Ludd winced as the boy was lifted off the ground and slammed into the bars of his cell with an invisible power. "You are the squire to Lyn Corbray," the sorcerer stated, his voice cold and without emotion. "You were in the hall during the feast and were seen encouraging the younger boys to drink as much as they could."

The squire was visible shaking as he was held in the air against the bars of his cell. A dark spot forming in pants gave testament to just how weak willed the boy truly was. "Ser Corbray told me to make sure the younger boys enjoyed the celebration! And told me the best way to do that was to see how much they could all drink! That – that was all! I – I didn't kno-"

"Shut the hell up Redfort!" A man from the Vale, this one situated directly across from Ludd yet one he didn't recognize, shouted at the struggling squire. "Be a fucking man you coward and keep your mouth shut!"

Mychel dropped to the floor with a grunt as the boy was released from whatever had a hold on him. Turning, the sorcerer made his way until he was standing before the Vale man that'd just spoken. "What?" The Vale man shouted as Nox stood between the two of them, just his mere presence enough to make Ludd start to shutter once more. "Do you…think I'm scared of you? A heathen bastard? A walking talking affront to the Seven-Who-Are-One? I'm not! The Seven are my shield against your foul magic!"

The sorcerer merely tilted his head as if observing some oddity. "Then you are a fool." Nox stated in the same plain manner before turning and walking back down the line of cells. "There is a chance that some of you, like this boy here, might just be able to survive what is to come. A slim chance. But still a chance. But for the rest of you, your deaths are all assured. The only choice you have right now is how much pain you are willing to put yourselves and your loved ones through before you meet your end."

"Pain?" He heard the voice of Lady Dustin scoff, he hadn't even been aware that she was in the cells with the rest of them, though he should have. "Stark does not have the strength for such methods. The south made him soft. At worst, he'll smack us on the head and send us to bed without supper."

"You'd be surprised," Nox remarked back, "just what a person is willing to do to protect or avenge their family Lady Dustin. But I promise you, you will learn in time. Now, I give you all this one chance. Your guilt is unquestionable. But there is one thing that we will learn from you before you meet your end. And that is who was aiding you. And don't even try and deny it. None of you here have the brains nor resources to put together a plot this elaborate on your own. So, does anyone wish to speak now before we begin."

Ludd felt his heart drop. They knew. They knew that there was another involved in the planning. And while he'd been hoping to use the information to shock Stark into giving him favorable terms, the situation was still salvageable. Perhaps even better as he was not only willing to give out said information, but because he had proof of their involvement. Something that he knew for a fac the others did not considering just how well their benefactors covered their tracks. "Hey sorcerer!" The Vale knight across from Ludd shouted before he could gain the man's attention, "how's the wife and kid?"

Ludd swore the temperature dropped significantly as the shadows created by the torch light almost seemed to dance around them in some odd macabre spectacle that sent shivers of fear down his spine. Yet, the sorcerer just stood there with his back turned to the Vale knight seemingly completely calm in the center of the cells as the man laughed and continued his taunt. "It's too bad, that woman was a fine piece of ass. Too bad she couldn't have enjoyed a real cock for once in her life before s – ahh!"

The sorcerer didn't move from his spot, yet the knight lurched forward and pressed himself against the bars. Much in the same manner as the young squire had. But unlike the squire, who was simply held there, the knight kept getting pressed hard and harder into the bars of the cell. "Trying to taunt me into making a mistake and quickly killing you. A move that would perhaps work on an amateur. But I am no amateur." The knight started to scream, an unholy sound that Ludd hadn't even known was possible for a grown man to make as head was pressed through the narrow spaces of the bars, followed by his shoulders. "But your idiocy will only serve to prove my point as to what is to come."

Ludd watched in horrid fascination as the knight was squeezed through the spacing between the bars of his cell that couldn't be more than a hands width apart at best. His bones cracked and broke as his body was molded to fit through the space. Yet despite the seemingly fatal injuries he was receiving, the man didn't die. He just, kept screaming. Even after all his ribs broke and even as blood started flowing freely from his mouth he kept screaming as he was slowly dragged through the bars. 'This – this isn't possible!' Ludd wanted to cry out as he watched the man's hips fold and break, the knight unable to keep thrashing about and instead just moaning loudly in agony. 'He – he should be dead! His – his bones should've pierced his heart! No one can survive this! But – but how? How is this…'

"As you can see," the sorcerer continued in the same almost bored tone as the knight was dragged completely through the bars, only to be dropped into a bloody limp heap on the ground, the knight still moaning in agony, "your definitions of pain and suffering and mere child's play when compared to mine. Unlike your pathetic excuse for tortures, I can twist and manipulate the Force to keep an individual alive even after I've ruptured every organ and broken every bone in your body."

Raising his boot, the sorcerer calmly set it atop the knight's head. And with hardly even any strain, the man that Ludd was becoming convinced was some sort of demon started pressing down with an agonizing slowness. The knight's skull cracked as his eyes popped out of his skull and blood spilled from his ears, nose, mouth and now-empty eye sockets. Yet it wasn't until the sorcerer's boot was fully on the ground that the knights cry of agony ceased and his body went limp with death. "Now, does anyone else have another quip they would like to get in regarding my wife and fallen son?"

Swallowing, Ludd knew he had to say his next few words carefully. The last thing he wanted was to draw the ire of the sorcerer worse than they already had. "Sorcerer, there – there is no need for this," he said lowly, his head bowed in a sign of submission. "I – I will speak of who it was that aided us. And more, I – I can provide proof of their involvement, proof that I know no one else will be able to provide to you. But, but I will only do so after I speak to Lord Stark on the matter."

"Whitehill! You fucking traitor!" Rodrik screamed from down the line. "I'll fucking kill you myself you yellow-backed southern worshiping cunt!"

"You might be willing to suffer Rodrik, but I am not!" Ludd shout back, "and don't be envious just because I was smart enough to come with a contingency plan!"

"It won't work," the quiet and unnerving voice of Roose Bolton said from a cell down the way from his own. "You have only made yourself a target with your words Ludd."

Ludd wanted to retaliate, but what words he had died in his throat as the sorcerer stood before him. And while he couldn't see the blind man's eyes due to the cloth, he could feel his gaze seemingly staring right into his very soul. "You hope to make a bargain with Lord Stark. The information for your life."

Swallowing, Ludd nodded. "Aye. What I have is – ah!"

With a grunt, Ludd found himself pressed firmly against the bars of his cell by an invisible force. Flashes of what he'd just seen ran through his mind as he fought desperately against whatever invisible power was holding him in place. "Wait!" He cried, feeling the cold steel of the cell bars press into his flesh. "I…can…deal…Stark…"

"Your actions, and those of your fellow conspirators, cost Lord Stark his wife and youngest son." The sorcerer informed him coldly as the weight pressing against Ludd increased. "Stark has no mercy nor pity for any of you now. What he does have though is a history with all of you. A history which he acknowledges could potentially make him sympathetic to your pleas during questioning. Which is why he sent me to do this. I am free from such sympathy."

Ludd's fear increased tenfold as he watched the sorcerer raise his right hand, his fingers extended and pointing towards Ludd's face. "There will be no deals. No negotiations. No mercy." The sorcerer's fingers curled inwards slightly, and Ludd only just barely managed to keep himself from crying out as it felt like the man's fingers were pressing through his skull and directly onto his mind. "You will tell me what you know." As the pressured increased to the point of sheer agony, Ludd lost all thoughts of honor or pride as he threw his head back and let out a cry of pain. "One way, or another. You will tell me everything."


Cresting the last of the stairs leading to the uppermost level of the great keep of Winterfell, Maester Luwin took a moment to rest his hand against the wall in order to rest his aching legs and catch his breath. If there was one thing that he had learned in his near decade and a half here in Winterfell, it was that nothing was ever truly simple in the North. The cold was merciless. The people unyielding and straightforward. Hells, even on the best of days traversing the halls of Winterfell itself could be considered a challenge. And the past day not certainly been the best of days. He'd been working himself without sleep for nearly two days now trying to mitigate the damage that had been wrought by the attempted coup by the various Northern and Vale knights and Lords. And while he wished that he could say it was because of him that so many would live to see another day, that would be a lie. In truth, Lady Talisa and the students of Winterfell's College deserve almost all the credit for the wellbeing of the survivors of the attack. If not for them…he shuddered to think of the death toll that could've been.

Breathing deep, Luwin straightened himself off the wall and made his way down the corridor, his Maester links clinking against one another with each step he took towards Lord Stark's solar. If someone were to have asked him even a week ago if he'd thought there was possibility of a coup here in the North, he would've laughed himself stupid. Just the mere idea was absurd. To be sure, he wasn't naive enough to think that such powerplays didn't exist amongst the nobles of Westeros, but this was the North. And the Northern people were nothing if not loyal to one another. And yet, here they were. A coup had been attempted to no less than five Northern Lords and at least one Lord of the Vale. And it had nearly succeeded. If not for the sorcerer's miraculous recovering from the frankly unheard-of levels of poison that'd been used to put him down, then he was sure that the Starks and he would now be dead.

But despite the successful quelling of the coup, the price was high. Close to a hundred were dead with twice or perhaps thrice more injured, which inclined a fair number of nobility as well as small folk. But the deaths that had truly hit him hardest were Lady Stark, little Rickon Stark and the unnamed child that had been growing in the newly named Lady Nox's womb. And while all three were great tragedies that brought about a great sadness within him, they also brought a great deal of fear as well. Fear of what would happen next. He'd seen Lord Nox angry or perhaps even frustrated before, and it was not a pretty sight. But now, now he was at a level of anger Luwin had never seen before. And while Lord Stark could perhaps be counted on to perhaps reign the sorcerer in, he doubted that the Warden of the North would be feeling so inclined to do so this time around.

Out of sheer curiosity, he had made his way towards the dungeons shortly after the funeral pyres had burnt down just to check in on the prisoners. And by the Seven…what he heard even coming from down in the dungeons had stopped him dead in his tracks. Lord Stark had ordered prisoners to be questioned in such manners before, but those cases were rare and usually did not last long. But this, this was something else. He knew the sounds coming from the dungeons were being made by men and even a woman or two, but he would have never thought that any person could make such noises as the ones he was hearing. Even the Stark guards who were assigned to stand guard outside the dungeon had gone white from the noise. And judging by the smell near the two, one or both had already lost the contents of their stomach at least once. His want to check up on the prisoners was quickly overcome by his own self-interest and he quickly left that section of Winterfell and did everything he could to keep himself and others away for the rest of the day. So, he busied himself throughout the day by tending to the still wounded with Lady Talisa and the other students of the college. And now that the sun had set, he had received summons that Lord Stark wished to speak with him immediately. No doubt the Warden of the North was curious about the condition of those he'd been tending too during the day. Though he did find it a touch odd that only he had been summoned considering he wasn't the only one who was tending to the wounded. Perhaps he'd already talked to the others?

Finding two guards outside of Lord Stark's solar, he spared the two men a quick nodded before raising making to announce his presence. "Come in Maester Luwin," Lord Stark's voice called out before he could knock.

Lowering his hand, Luwin grasped the latch and opened the door. Lord Stark's ability to know just who was standing outside his door before they could even announce themselves had only sharpened over the years. A feat which Luwin would've considered remarkable had he not personally seen the many feats Lord Nox was capable of with his magic. He had been one of the few Maesters in the entire Citadel who bothered to forge his Valyrian steel link for his studies of the higher mysteries of life. But those years of studies paled in comparison to even a single lecture from the Northern Sorcerer, and he'd been forced to admit that he didn't know nearly as much in the subject as he originally thought. In fact, he knew next to nothing. A fascination that'd been shared with Archmaester Marwyn, who Luwin had been corresponding with ever since the Sorcerer had arrived in the North.

"Lord Stark, you wished to see me…" His words died off as he noticed that Lord Stark was not the only occupant waiting for him. Just standing behind Lord Stark were his two eldest sons: Robb and Jon. And standing beside the Warden of the North was Lord Nox and perhaps most frighteningly, the large female direwolf that was nearly equal in height to Lord Stark while the two were sitting down.

"Maester Luwin," Lord Stark greeted him, motioning towards the empty chair opposite him. "Sit. We have much to discuss."

"Of course, my Lord," Luwin nodded, shutting the door behind him and taking the offered seat. As he sat, he felt a bone chilling cold enter his being. But this wasn't the chilling cold he'd grown accustom too in the North. No. This felt entirely different. A chill born of fear, though fear of what and why he knew not. And it was only just then that he noticed that Lord Stark's eyes were not their customary color. His dark grey eyes of the Starks were gone. Replaced with the yellow eyes of the wolf that perfectly matched the large direwolf sitting tall and proud next to him. "What is it that you wish to discuss, my Lord?"

"The coup attempt yesterday," Lord Stark began, though Luwin had to force himself to keep his attention solely on Lord Stark as Lord Nox quietly moved around the room until he was standing outside of Luwin's line of sight. "Given the sheer number of House involved, not to mention the fact that assassins and sellswords were employed from across Westeros and even Essos, I had a suspicion that there was another party at play that helped to fund and plan the attempt. I ordered Lord Nox here to question those we'd captured extensively to learn if they had such help, and if so then who it was. During their questioning, all the Lords and Ladies that had a hand in the planning admitted that they did have such help. And that while all seemed to know exactly who was aiding them, none of them were able to provide proof of their involvement. All except for Ludd Whitehill. Who was able to provide a single piece of evidence in the form of a letter that he kept on him just in case the coup failed and he was forced to negotiate for his freedom."

Reaching out, Lord Stark set a single raven's scroll on the desk for Luwin to take and read. Picking up the offered missive, Luwin unrolled the message and read its contents. 'Father, this will be the best and only chance our House will get to advance like this. I promise you, the Arhcmaester's plans are foolproof. The Starks and the Sorcerer will die, with or without our Houses aid. If we go against the Order, they will see us go the same way as the wolves. However, aiding them will ensure that the land of House Forrester end up in Whitehill hands in perpetuity. Take the deal father. The Archmaesters have already set the wheels in motion and they will not wait for you to think on this for much longer.'

By the time Luwin got to the end of the message his hands were almost shaking, though whether it was from fear or anger he wasn't sure. 'This…this implicates the Maester Order! Surely Lord Stark does not believe that-'

A hissing of quenching steel sounded through the room as a bright red blade of fire appeared less than a fingers width from Luwin's left eye. "All of the prisoners stated that the Maester Order not only provided the coin and means to attempt this coup, but that the plan was in fact the Maester's plan to begin with." Lord Stark continued; his wolf-yellow eyes boring into him. "It is only because of your years of loyalty and service to House Stark and Winterfell that I am even giving you this one chance to explain this Maester Luwin. I advise that you choose your next words very carefully. Lord Nox does not have my patience. And despite our history, I am not of the mind to reign him in anytime soon."

Now Luwin was shaking as his fear started to nearly overcome him. He knew exactly what Lord Stark wanted to know. Despite his fear, he was still hesitant to say the words. The Maester Oaths were phrased in such a way to specifically prevent this exact situation from occurring. But despite that, he knew that there was a group within the Maesters that didn't care. A group that didn't exist outside the Citadel or even seemingly within as they were never spoken of aloud. They were an embarrassment and an abomination to everything the Maester Order stood for. But as he started to feel the heat of Lord Nox's blade caressing his face, the words quickly fell from him. "I – if it is the Maesters my Lord, then I believe that those responsible to belong to a small group within the Citadel." Luwin said quickly, his body completely stiff as he feared that even the slightest of movements from himself would cause Lord Nox's blade to pierce his flesh.

Lord Stark's face didn't change as he seemingly pondered what Luwin had told him while Nox's blade remained uncomfortably close to his face. Finally, Lord Stark made a subtle motion with his hand and Luwin let out a sigh of relief as Lord Nox's blade disappeared. "Continue."

Swallowing, Luwin forced himself to speak of the subject that he found to be a personal embarrassment and afront of the Maesters. "They call themselves the 'Order of the Guiding Hand' and they believe themselves to be the true rulers of Westeros."

"The Order of the Guiding Hand," Lord Stark repeated. "I have never heard of such a group before."

"That is on purpose my Lord," Luwin continued slowly, knowing he had to choose his words extremely carefully lest he find himself on the wrong end of Lord Nox's sword once more. "While none of the novices within the Citadel will know about them, the moment one creates their first link and becomes and Acolyte you learn of their existence. Though you will only ever be able to truly confirm their existence if you become one of them as they work in absolute secrecy, even from the rest of the Maester Order. And they are forbidden to be spoken of outside of the Citadel. They also hate magic perhaps even more vehemently than the Faith of the Seven. If a group a Maesters are truly responsible for these actions, then it would be them my Lords."

"Seems awfully convenient Maester," Lord Nox said from behind him, a fact which Luwin did not find comfortable as he would've preferred to have kept the Sorcerer in his sight. "Your Order becomes implicated in a plot to kill several Lords and Ladies, including the Warden of the North and his family, and suddenly the ones responsible belong to a secret Order within the Maester Order that no one outside of the Citadel knows about. Convenient."

Luwin would admit that, given the circumstances, that it was convenient. But that didn't mean he wasn't speaking the truth. "I speak the truth my Lord, I swear to you and on my oath as a Maester."

"And how do you know about this Order then?" Lord Nox pressed, coming around so that he was within Luwin's sight. The hilt of his sword still resting in his hand and pointing towards Luwin. "Those who partook in the coup seemed to have had a significant insight into not only my own power, but also into the powers of the Stark children. They even knew that Sansa was not a participant in the training her brothers and sister was receiving, which was why she was targeted to be spared in order to affirm the traitor's hold on the North. How do we know that you are not a member of this Order you speak of?"

"I swear my Lord, I am not a member of the Order of the Guiding Hand," Luwin shot back immediately at Lord Nox before turning back and meeting the cold eyes of Lord Stark. "They…they are an insult to everything the Maester Order stands for. I – please Lord Stark. I do not know what proof you will require to believe me. But I swear upon my Oaths and upon the Gods old and new that I am not part of the Order of the Guiding Hand, nor did I have any knowledge of this plot."

Luwin held the eyes of Lord Stark he had once known throughout his entire impassioned plea, hoping and praying that he was able to get through to him. "There is no lie in your words," Lord Stark declared, bringing a surge of relief to Luwin. "However, the question still remains. How was it that those who attacked us knew so much about my children's capabilities? While we have not tried to hide what my daughters and sons can do, I have not been declaring it to the realm either."

What little relief Luwin had felt disappeared. "I – I believe I know my Lord," he said, not wanting to continue but knowing that holding anything back right now would only be detrimental to his cause. "For years Archmaester Marwyn, perhaps the only Maester who truly took the study of the arcane seriously before Lord Nox appeared, has been asking me questions about Lord Nox. Specifically, about his powers, how they work and what they can do. And when your children started truly showing that they could perform similar feats of magic, he was curious about them as well. I replied as truthfully as I could, as I could find no reason not too considering the Archmaester has dedicated his life to the study of the higher mysteries. But at the start of the spring years Archmaester Ebrose sent a raven asking inquiring about both Lord Nox and your children regarding what they can do. At the time I didn't think anything of it. But now…"

"Given what we know, it is more than likely this Archmaester Ebrose is a part of this Order of the Guiding Hand," Lord Nox finished for him. "And he is not the only one who is suspect. The Maesters that reside in each of the keeps belonging to the traitors as well need to be questioned."

"Aye they do," Lord Stark nodded, which did absolutely nothing to quell the uneasy feeling brewing in Luwin's gut.

He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. On one hand, these men were his brothers in the Maester Order. Some of whom he had trained with during his time in the Citadel and had come to know them quite well. He didn't even want to think of what horrors had gone on down in the dungeons under Lord Nox's supervision. And he certainly did not want to think of those men he had come to call his friends and brothers suffering such a fate. Yet on the other hand, if they truly were part of the Order of the Guiding Hand then they had not only betrayed their Maester Oaths, but they had betrayed the North and the rest of the Realm as well.

"-difficulty resides in how spaced out the Maester Order is and the secrecy of this unknown sect within their Order." Lord Nox was saying when Luwin finally managed to realize that the conversation between Lord Nox and Lord Stark had been continuing while he had been trying to rationalize the conflict within himself. "If there is solid evidence of their actions to be had, it will more than likely be at the Citadel. However, if we move on the Citadel, then the Maesters that are spread out over the land that are involved will know that they are on borrowed time and will flee. However if we go after the Maester's that are stationed across the North first, then it is likely that those in the Citadel will realize that we are on to them and will work to eliminate what little traces are potentially left regarding their involvement. Robb, Jon. How would you two proceed?"

Both young men seemed startled to be called upon so suddenly. But both overcame their surprise quickly as each frowned as they tried to think on how to solve the problem Lord Nox had presented to them. A problem that was indeed very much an issue, Luwin realized as he too began trying to think on how to proceed. The Sorcerer was correct in thinking that if there was any proof outside of word of mouth of the Guiding Hands actions, then it would be in the Citadel. However, if they went to the Citadel, then the Maesters across Westeros would know and those that were involved would scatter. But if they went after the Maesters in each keep first, then the Citadel would work quickly to dispose of any potential evidence.

"We have to go after both at once." Robb stated.

"Obviously," Lord Nox agreed, "but how?"

Neither lad had an answer. But Luwin did. And as much as it pained him to proceed like this, he would rather sacrifice a few to save the many. "If I may my Lord," he said hesitantly, waiting for Lord Stark to motion for him to continue before pressing on. "There has been precedent set in the past that during times of upheaval or when questions of inheritance are brought up that the Warden of the region would call upon the Stewards and Maesters of said keep to report to him so that they could work on who would be most suited to take lordship. If you send a raven to Rills, Barrow Town, the Dreadfort and Highpoint calling for the Maesters and Stewards to report to Winterfell to settle the matter of lordship given the betrayal of the current Lords, it will not arise suspicion."

"Have them come to us," Jon stated, recognition showing in his eyes, "but won't the Citadel get suspicious when they don't hear from the Maesters after they arrive?"

"Then we'll have to move on the Citadel at the same time," Lord Stark stated plainly. "While the Maesters gather here in Winterfell, I will travel to the Citadel with Lord Nox and we will take custody of the conspirators that are hiding in the Citadel."

The dread felling returned tenfold. As much as he wanted to talk Lord Stark out of this course of action, he knew it would be pointless. The last time a member of House Stark was killed unjustly, the realm rose up in rebellion and overthrew the Targaryen dynasty. Honor and the Northern Lords would demand the same fate to befall the Maester Order now that they were implicated attempted genocide of House Stark. "My Lord," Luwin said cautiously, knowing he was still on thin ice as it were. "I understand – please believe me that I understand. But if you storm the Citadel it could very well start a battle with House Hightower, which could then lead to war between the North and the Reach. And while the North has become more independent as of late, we still rely heavily on the Reach and their farmlands."

"I am not a fool Maester," Lord Stark shot back, "my fight is with the Maesters, not House Hightower. A fact that I will make clear to Lord Hightower the moment we arrive at Oldtown."

"Of course, my Lord." Luwin replied, backing down.

Nodding, Lord Stark then turned his attention to his two sons. "Robb, I would have you stay in Winterfell and rule in my stead with Jon aiding you where he can." Robb made to interrupt but held his tongue as Lord Stark raised his hand to stop him. "But I know that asking you two to stay behind would be a fool's errand. On the morrow I will speak with the Lords and Ladies and explain what we have learned and what our response shall be. The day after we will have hold trials for those who have broken their oaths."

"Trials?" Robb nearly shouted, his eyes going slightly yellow before returning to their normal Tully-blue. "Father, they came into our house and broke guest rights! They – they killed mother and Rickon and gods know how many others! They don't deserve a trial!"

Throughout the young man's outburst, Lord Stark remained completely calm as he waited for his son to finish. "Aye, they did break guest rights and they are responsible for the deaths of your mother and brother. But while they have thrown their honor to the dogs, we will not. And honor, and the law, demand that one must be tried and convicted before being executed, no matter their crime. If we do not, then we are no better than murderers. Understand?"

Neither boy seemed particularly pleased, but both nodded and stepped back away from their father. "Maester Luwin," Lord Stark called out, startling Luwin. "While I trust that you have spoken truthfully here today, the actions of your brothers in the Maester Order have made it so that I cannot trust you as I once did. Until I deem otherwise, you will have an escort at all times and there will always be a guard posted outside the ravenry as well."

He'd expected as much. "I understand, Lord Stark. I hope that in time I will be able to earn back the trust you once had in me."

"Aye, I do as well Maester Luwin." Lord Stark agreed. "One of the guards outside will escort you back to your room and remain with you till morning. Come morning, I expect ravens to fly across the North summoning the Maesters and stewards to Winterfell."

"Of course, Lord Stark," Luwin replied, recognizing the dismissal and rising to his feet before bowing. "I will work on them through the night and present them to you first thing on the morrow so that you may inspect them before I send them out."

"Good," Lord Stark replied simply.

Taking that as his que to leave, Luwin made a hasty exit out of Lord Starks solar. As he did, one of the two guards that'd been stationed outside his Lord's solar left is post and made to follow him back towards his quarters. But he paid the young man no mind as they walked in silence, preferring instead to think on just how he would be able to earn back the respect and trust of the Lord he spent nearly a decade serving.